King and Lionheart
by Farmgirl428
Summary: When Lord Sherlock Holmes is asked to investigate a theft at Oxford, he needs a young woman to pose as his wife during the investigation. Seeking one of the peasant girls on his estate, he is more than a little surprised to discover that there is more to this girl than meets the eye. Medieval AU; based on a mini-story from Petra Todd.
1. At The End of The Day

King and Lionheart, Chapter 1

_AN: This came from a Tumblr prompt from PetraTodd. The link to the prompt is here (warning: NSFW): post/53650823007/irreplaceable-works-of-learning-h ave-gone-missing I hope you all enjoy- this is my first fanfic ever, so please be nice! :)  
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Mollie was awoken that morning, like every other morning, by the barking cough of her father behind the divider that separated their beds. She stretched and walked over to the water basin to splash a bit of water on her face before she went to tend to her father. She walked around the divider to where her father laid curled on the bed, body wracked by harsh coughs. She noticed speckles of blood on his pillow.

She leaned down and quietly said, "Father, let me help you sit up. It may settle your cough a bit."

Mollie's father nodded, too winded by coughing to speak any words to her. She reached behind her father's shoulders and gently pushed him up into an upright position. She then went and grabbed the pillow that was on her bed so that she could prop him up with more pillows.

After a moment of silence she asked, "Will you be able to take care of the shop today, or do you need me to run it?"

Anselm Hooper shook his head, and said, "Mollie, you know the people of the village don't especially approve of a young woman being left alone in charge of the apothecary shop all day long."

Mollie sighed, and then protested, "But father, I know all of the herbs, tinctures, and cures that you know, and I'm every bit as helpful and hard-working as you are!"

Anselm put his hand up to cut off her protests. "Mollie, I know that as well as you do, but you must understand that the world isn't ready for a bright young thing like you yet, especially in a woman's body. Now, you may run downstairs and sweep up the shop to ready it for business, but I'll be manning the counter today."

Mollie took a deep breath; as much as she hated doing the chores of sweeping the shop, she knew it needed to be done. She went over to the fireplace and put on the pot of water that she had pulled up last night. As she waited for the water to boil, she spooned a little bit of dried oats into two bowls, and spooned a proprietary blend of herbs into a cup for her father to drink with the hot water. She worried for her father constantly. He was wasting away in front of her eyes. His fingers, once so firm and strong, now looked like twigs. His eyes and cheeks were sunken in, and he coughed up blood almost daily now. Their shop, which had once been so popular in the village, was now visited less frequently. Many of the villagers seemed to be of the impression that her father was possessed by a demon. Mollie herself knew something of medicine and healing, and simply could not believe this to be true. However, as a woman, she chose to keep her beliefs and ideas to herself, mainly out of respect for the father she loved so dearly. She walked over to check the pot of water- it was bubbling now. She grabbed the mitt hanging on the edge of the fireplace and picked up the pot of water by its handle. She set it down next to the table and filled the two bowls and cup of herbs with the water. She carried the bowl of porridge and the herbal infusion over to her father's bedside table.

"Anything else I can get you before I dress and go downstairs?" asked Mollie.

Anselm shook his head; Mollie kissed him on the forehead, and then walked around the divider to dress. She slipped out of her nightgown and slipped on her stockings. She then pulled on the tunic that she had worn the previous day, and finally laced herself into a light purple bodice. She braided her hair neatly, and slipped on her well-worn shoes before walking over to the table to get some breakfast. She quickly ate her porridge; she could see through the window that it was almost daybreak, which meant business at the shop would start soon. She put her dish into the wash basin, took a sip of a cupful of water, and quickly ran down the stairs.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the shop, she grabbed a broom. As she swept up the shop, she let her mind wander to thoughts of the treatise on curing warts that she had read last night by candlelight. Unlike other girls (and other peasants in general), Mollie's father had taught her how to read when she was young. Mollie largely suspected that this was because her father wanted intellectual companionship after his beloved wife's death; nevertheless, Mollie was grateful for the opportunity of being able to read. She also suspected that the only reason why she was not married at the age of 17 was because of her father's desire to have Mollie around to keep him company. That wasn't to say that Mollie didn't have a few suitors within the village: the one who vied for her attention most was Michael Stamford. However, Mollie wasn't very interested in marrying him. She was a romantic in her heart of hearts, and wanted to wait for someone that she would deeply fall in love with.

"_Not that that was likely to happen,_" she thought to herself wryly. Marriages rarely occurred for love in these times. More often than not, they occurred for the convenience of social status or because of desperate need for wealth. Mollie was going to be left destitute when her father passed away, and she knew (and dreaded) the fact that she would probably have to marry for money shortly after his death.

She knew that she did have one last, glimmering hope clinging to her. When she went to talk to the priest of the estate about her father's condition, he told her of the royal touch. King Henry VI was offering people afflicted with a similar illness to her father's a royal touch ceremony that was supposed to offer the best defense against the illness. Unfortunately, Mollie also knew that this meant she would have to find a way to get to London. While Mollie was not yet destitute, she didn't have the spare resources to afford fare for her and her father to London by carriage. She had been saving spare coins in a jar hidden under her bed, hoping that she would be able to afford the travel to London before it was too late.

Mollie was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't even hear the knocking at the door. She darted to the door and opened it, about to make an excuse for her father's not answering it, when she looked up.

_Oh. _It was him.

Lord Sherlock Holmes sat at his desk, tiredly rubbing his eyes. He was trying to write a summary of the latest murder case that he had solved for the constable, Gregory Lestrade. Lestrade frequently came to Sherlock with requests for help with solving a case that he couldn't crack, knowing that Sherlock was far more clever than he. Unfortunately, this also meant that Sherlock had to write up summaries for him so that Lestrade could properly prosecute each case.

Just when Sherlock thought he could take no more of this ridiculous write-up about a drunkard who killed a man, the door to his study opened. He looked up, and visibly relaxed when he saw the familiar face of his housekeeper, Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson had been hired on as Sherlock's nurse when he was an infant; she had lost her own baby and her husband within a week of each other, and was left in need of a job and something to console her. Sherlock quickly began to fill the place in her broken heart. While others in the house were put off by the fussy baby who alternated between furious tantrums and eerie periods where he quietly observed everything in the room, she loved him as her own child. As Sherlock grew older, she became his governess, overseeing his education in societal etiquette and expectations. When Sherlock became too old for a governess, he couldn't bear to lose Mrs. Hudson from his life; she was more of a mother to him than his actual mother ever would be. He convinced Mrs. Hudson to become his housekeeper, and she gladly accepted his invitation.

At that moment, said woman entered the room when Sherlock beckoned to her.

She paused for a moment, gauging what sort of mood he was in, before she gently said, "Sherlock, dear, a letter has just arrived for you from your brother. It appears to be most urgent."

Sherlock nodded and held his hand out for the letter. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," he murmured.

She turned around to leave the room, but succumbed to expressing her feelings of maternal worry for a moment. "Sherlock, you really should get to bed. The hour is rather late, and you must take care of yourself to keep your mind at its sharpest!"

While Sherlock would have been incredibly irritated had anyone else made a comment like this to him, he understood Mrs. Hudson's motivation for saying it. He smiled, nodded, and assured her he would retire to his chambers soon.

Once Mrs. Hudson had left the room, Sherlock cut open the letter from his brother, Mycroft. The letter was dated to January 7th, 1450- three days ago. Mycroft and Sherlock had a distant relationship; however, despite their outer coldness, they would do anything for one another if the situation required it. Mycroft held an important position as an advisor to the King, and was content to live in London with his wife, Anthea. Sherlock knew that the marriage between Anthea and Mycroft was more for convenience than love; however, they were an excellent match for one another in terms of societal positions, and they had become one of the most powerful couples in London.

"_Dear Sherlock,"_ the letter read,

"_I write to you on a most urgent matter. I have recently been alerted by some of my connections at Oxford that a very important set of scrolls detailing some of Britain's history have been stolen from Oxford's library. We are not sure what the motivation behind this theft was, or who has done it. However, be sure that this is an important matter of national heritage for Britain, not to mention an issue of huge monetary value for Oxford. I would ask you to please travel to Oxford at once to investigate. If, along the way, you would also stop in London and visit me and Anthea, we would welcome your company. I look forward to your most prompt reply._

_Your brother,_

_Lord Mycroft Holmes_

Sherlock leaned back in his chair and pondered this new development. Under normal circumstances, he would bring his friend Sir John Watson, a retired knight, along to help investigate the case. However, this case would require a great deal of traveling. He needed a woman to help him with things such as cleaning his clothing, cooking his food, and keeping his quarters in good condition. Mrs. Hudson's health wasn't as suited to traveling as it once was, and he needed her at home to manage the affairs of the house during his leave of absence. Furthermore, he wanted a young woman who would easily listen to him, and who would be willing to go to events with him to deter the attention of other females in social settings. He found nothing more infuriating and distracting than the cloying attention of noblewomen. He knew what he wanted: a pretty, young peasant girl who would work hard and listen to him. He knew that the apothecary on his estate had a young daughter who was unmarried. She was reasonably pretty and always seemed to be a hard worker. She couldn't have too many wits about her, considering she was hardly paying attention while sweeping the floors of her father's shop. What was her name? Mary? Millicent? Mollie? Either way, she couldn't be more than eighteen years of age.

Sherlock scrawled out a reply to his brother, and called up one of the servants to deliver his letter in the morning. He ordered another servant to pack a bag for travel for him in the morning, and told a third servant to send a message to the stable to ready the carriage in the morning. With that complete, Sherlock retired to his chambers and quickly found sleep.

The next morning, as he strode to the apothecary's shop, he planned out exactly what he was going to say to convince her to join him on his journey. And it was with an air of total confidence that he met the apothecary's daughter's dumbfounded stare when she opened the door to answer his knocks.


	2. Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise

King and Lionheart: Chapter 2

_AN: I guess I gave y'all a big treat tonight! I managed to pump out two chapters in one evening. :) I'm really excited to have some followers and favorites already on this story- thanks to everyone who favorited/followed! I have to work tomorrow so I may or may not have another chapter up tomorrow. But enjoy this- I enjoyed writing this chapter! Night, lovelies. :) _

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"My Lord! H-hello," stuttered out Mollie quite nervously. She really wasn't sure about why Lord Holmes was at the apothecary shop, much less this early in the morning. Most times if he was ill, he would either send out a servant to pick up the required herbs, or he would have her father come up to the manor to see to him. She felt incredibly nervous in her plain dress- her hair wasn't even covered! She could feel a blush tingeing her cheeks due to embarrassment at her own verbal inadequacies. She took a deep breath, smoothed out her skirt, and looked back up at him. He really was quite handsome in a unique way; he looked something like a cat, what with the angled definition of his face, his lean, lithe body, and his eyes…

"Ahem." Mollie startled when she heard Lord Holmes clear his throat- she hadn't realized that she had been silently admiring his physique so obviously. She unnecessarily smoothed out her skirt again, and looked up at him.

"What can I do for you today, my Lord?"

Sherlock smirked at her. He was practically feeding off of her nervousness; it stroked his ego to know that this girl was a little intimidated by his presence. Furthermore, she clearly found him physically attractive, something that would be very beneficial to him in their travels together. He could tell that she had fixed breakfast that morning, judging by the tinges of soot on her wrists that could only have come from a fireplace. Dark circles under the eyes- she slept poorly during the night. Collarbone and scapulae protruding slightly- she hasn't been eating well. Bodice laces were threaded unevenly- she dressed in the dark without a mirror. Burn on her left thumb, obviously from candlewax- she's been up late- but doing what? He took a deep breath of the air around them, and distinctly smelled thyme- someone in the house had a cough. Moving on to her physical attributes, he decided that she may work to suit his purposes. Yes, she was a bit too thin, and looked a bit waifish, but that could easily be fixed with proper nourishment. She did have lovely brown hair (he was glad she hadn't covered her hair as so many women were inclined to do), and big brown eyes. Her lips were perhaps a bit too thin for his liking, but she would do for the purposes he required. He ended his quick assessment, looked down at her, and addressed her.

In his baritone voice, he began, "Funnily enough, I was going to ask what you could do for me."

Mollie tilted her head to the side, squinting her eyes, "Begging your pardon, my Lord, but I'm not quite sure what you mean."

Sherlock cut her off, and asked, "What is your name, girl?"

Mollie was more than a little abashed by Lord Holmes's rudeness; however, she knew it would be very bad if she refused to address him, so she quietly said, "Mollie, my Lord."

"Well, Mollie, I need help from you."

At this point, Mollie was incredibly confused. Why would Lord Holmes need her help? If he needs herbs to treat an ailment, he would have gone straight to her father. So this must be something else. But Mollie could think of no other skill she possessed that would prove useful to Lord Holmes. So she said the only thing that she thought appropriate in this situation.

"My Lord, I will do whatever I can to be of service."

Sherlock's lips twisted a little again. He clapped his hands and exclaimed, "Excellent! Would you like to hear my proposition for you?"

Mollie nodded numbly. She didn't know what she anticipated to hear from him next, but whatever her mind conjured up, it was far more realistic than what reality placed at her feet.

"Mollie, I am in need of a travel companion, and I would like that travel companion to be you."

She nearly fainted then and there, and had to steady herself by placing her hand on the counter beside her. He needed a travel companion? What would he expect of her? And why did he choose her specifically? Everyone on the estate knew that he usually worked with a local retired knight, Sir John, when he needed assistance on a case. She had no experience working cases, so what did he have in mind for her? Fortunately, she didn't have to voice these thoughts, because right then, Lord Holmes continued.

"I need a young woman to help me with a variety of housekeeping-style tasks, such as cooking and cleaning. I have deduced that you are capable of cooking and cleaning, not only from your appearance, but also because you have been your father's caretaker for many years. Furthermore, I will require you to pretend to be my wife."

"Forgive me if I sound rude, my Lord, but why will you need me to pose as your wife?"

"I have found that I frequently attract the attentions of noblewomen at social events. They are often attracted to my family's wealth, although some of them also find me physically attractive. I find their attentions irritating and distracting. I think I will be able to escape their attentions if I announce that I am attached to someone else already. Additionally, it will be easier to travel with you as my companion if we uphold the pretense of our marriage."

Mollie nodded; what he said did make sense. It made her nervous, but she felt like she could handle this task.

"My Lord, will I be receiving compensation for this? And where will we be traveling?"

Sherlock gave a quick smile of appreciation at her- perhaps she was slightly sharper than he gave her credit for.

"You will be more than adequately compensated for your travels with me. We will be leaving from Ripon tomorrow morning. We are traveling to Oxford, so it will be a three day journey in the carriage."

Mollie stood quietly and thought about Lord Holmes's proposition for a moment. She opened her mouth to respond to him when she heard, "My Lord! Welcome! What brings you here at this hour?"

She turned around to see her father descending the stairs. Mollie was about to answer her father's query, but Lord Holmes quickly cut her off.

"Anselm, I have come here with a request for Mollie. I'd like her to be my travel companion for the next few weeks. We will be traveling to Oxford to work on a case that I have been given."

Anselm looked stunned for a moment- Mollie wondered if that's how she looked when Lord Holmes gave her his request- before he responded carefully with, "With all due respect, my Lord, my Mollie is a most valuable presence here for me in the shop. I'm not sure if I'll be able to manage without her. I will worry greatly for her health and safety over the next few weeks, and what with my health already ailing, I don't think that would end well."

Mollie looked back and forth between her father and Lord Holmes. She could practically see the wheels turning in Lord Holmes's head; he must _really _want her to be his travel companion. When she looked at her father, she could see the worry written plainly on his face. She had to acknowledge that her father made some valid points. He did need her in the shop, and his worrying would certainly not improve his health. But Mollie also felt that she could manipulate this situation to her advantage if she really wanted to.

She looked at Lord Holmes, and said, "My Lord, may I have a moment alone upstairs with my father?"

Lord Holmes nodded his consent, and with that, Mollie and Anselm quickly ascended the stair steps.

When they were in the privacy of their upstairs apartment, Anselm whispered, "Mollie, I don't think this is a wise idea. We don't know Lord Holmes very well, and we don't know his intentions for you."

Mollie whispered back, "Papa, I know that you may be feeling some apprehension about all of this, but all he wants me to do for him are the basic duties of a housekeeper and cook while he is working on a case." She chose to exclude the rather major detail of having to pretend to be his wife; she knew her father would balk at that.

Anselm shook his head, and said, "I simply don't understand why he couldn't just stay at a boarding house. They provide all those things in a boarding house!"

Mollie said, "I shall go ask him; that is an excellent question, Father." She darted back down the stairs, where she found Lord Holmes pacing (somewhat impatiently) through the shop.

She cleared her throat, "Excuse me, my Lord. May I ask why you cannot simply stay at a boardinghouse? They have cooks and housekeepers there."

Lord Holmes looked at her for a second, and then explained, "I cannot simply trust a person who I don't know at all to prepare my food on a daily basis. I have death threats put to me regularly by criminals. Someone who cooks at a boardinghouse could be paid to poison my food. It wouldn't be very logical for you to attempt to kill me. As I am Lord of this estate, your family would be out of a job if I died, considering that there is no heir, and my brother holds little interest in managing the affairs of the estate."

Mollie nodded again, and said, "We'll only be a few more moments upstairs, my Lord."

Mollie arrived back upstairs and quickly relayed what Lord Holmes had told her to Anselm. Anselm frowned for a second, and then said, "What he says does make sense, Mollie. But I am so concerned for how this will affect your reputation in the village. Many people already talk about how odd you are because you are so interested in medicine, reading, and the like. When I die, and you know that my death isn't far away, you will need someone to take care of you. That person is going to have to come from this estate. If the young men hear that you've been off gallivanting with the lord of the manor, they won't be nearly as keen on marrying you."

Mollie took her father's hand gently; she could see in his eyes that his concern was genuine. So she proceeded cautiously when she calmly said, "Papa, I know that you are concerned for my reputation and my virtue. However, I think that there is a lot of good that could come from this as well. Lord Holmes has promised to compensate me generously for my services. The money will definitely help to pay for my care for the next few years. I can live modestly here on the estate until I find a man I want to marry. I can defend my virtue well enough, and I don't think that Lord Holmes is interested in defiling me. I can ask him to get someone to help you in the shop while I'm away, and most importantly, I know that he and I are heading south to Oxford. I can ask him to take me to London, and maybe I can discover a way to arrange a royal touch ceremony with King Henry to heal you of your illness. I know you're worried, Papa, but this will help me and you."

Anselm became a little teary-eyed as he heard Mollie explain all of this to him. "Mollie, you are so grown up now. What you're saying makes sense, and while I know I'm still going to worry about you desperately, I trust you to make wise decisions while you're traveling with his Lordship. I will let you go with him, since you have argued convincingly that it will benefit both of us. Let's not keep Lord Holmes waiting any longer- we have an answer for him."

Mollie hurried back down the stairs with her father following behind her. Lord Holmes looked a bit impatient at this point, but Mollie couldn't really bring herself to care. She then announced, "I will go with you as a travel companion- however, I have conditions before I wholeheartedly agree to this."

Sherlock raised his eyebrow- he certainly hadn't expected _this _from her. "Go on," he said.

At his raised eyebrow, Mollie felt her confidence waiver slightly. She hoped that he wouldn't find someone to replace her because she was too demanding. But she knew that this had to be said, so she bit her lip before opening her mouth and saying, "First, I'd like to ask that you send one of your servants from the manor here to the shop to help my father in the shop and around the house. Second, I would like a guarantee that you will in no way touch me without my express permission. And finally, I would like to go to London. I would like to arrange for a royal touch ceremony to cure my father of his illness."

Sherlock was speechless for a few seconds; who knew this slip of a girl would be so demanding, and know exactly what she wanted? Strangely enough, Sherlock wasn't bothered by it- in fact, he rather enjoyed it. Mollie, meanwhile, was quaking in her shoes, terrified that he would say no and leave. Then she would be back to saving coins in a jar, vainly hoping for a trip to the palace that would never come. Finally, Lord Holmes spoke.

"That is quite a list, I must say. However, I will concede to your conditions as long as you obey me in every way unless it breaks one of your conditions."

Mollie broke out in a smile of relief. "Thank you, my Lord. That is very generous of you."

Sherlock shook his head, and then said, "It was merely logical. We must leave for the manor at once. What have you in the way of clothes to wear on the trip?"

Mollie said, "A few simple linen tunics- I don't have much occasion for dressing up, your Lordship."

Sherlock said, "Well, that simply won't do. We will go to Ripon after we leave here and arrange for you to have a few new dresses made that are appropriate for a housekeeper to wear." He chose not to mention, "dresses appropriate for my wife, the noblewoman, to wear". After that was said, he indicated to Mollie that it was time to leave.

Mollie looked back at her father, and desperately hoped that this wouldn't be the last time that she would see him. She threw her arms around his neck, not caring that Lord Holmes was watching. She whispered in his ear, "Stay well, Papa, until I can send for you to come to London. I'll be back to you as soon as I can."

Anselm tearfully whispered, "I love you, Mollie. Stay safe." He kissed her on the cheek, and let go of her. Mollie squeezed his hand and said one last "I love you" before she left the shop with Lord Holmes. As they left the shop, all Mollie could think about was that she may be seeing her father for the last time. All Sherlock could think of was that it would be very inconvenient to tell Mycroft and Anthea that they would have an extra _female _guest staying with them in London soon.

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_AN: So I guess we'll find out in the next chapter what sort of clothing Mollie will get, and how well she and Sherlock are going to get along. :) _


	3. I'm A Keeper

King and Lionheart Chapter 3

_AN: Sorry that it took me so long to update this! I went to my family's beach cottage last weekend (no internet), and when I arrived back home, the motherboard in my old computer had died! I had to do a data transfer, etc. But I've finally uploaded this chapter- it's a bit longer than the others, so I hope this at least slightly makes it up to my readers. :) Thanks for all the reviews, favorites and follows! Hope everyone has a lovely July 4th holiday! _

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As Mollie walked back up the hill towards the manor with Lord Holmes, carrying a small satchel of basic items under her arm, she looked back down at the estate. It was just beginning to wake up- mothers were walking out of their homes with pails of water in one arm and a baby in the other. The men were going outside to check their crops and livestock. Here and there a bleary-eyed child toddled around looking for where his or her parents had gone to. She took a deep breath, acknowledging that deep in her heart she was going to feel a bit empty without being on the estate for the next few months. It would be the first time she had left the place in her entire life. She was roused from her thoughts by the deep voice of Lord Holmes.

"How long has your father been ill?"

Mollie took a deep breath, pausing to think about exactly how long it had been. It felt like forever to her. She finally decided on a number, and said, "About two months. It all came on rather suddenly."

Sherlock pursed his lips and nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that. Your father is a particularly competent apothecary."

Mollie smiled a little bit at that comment. She knew that her father was not only gifted in creating herbal remedies, but also very passionate about it. His passion for it had transferred to her, leading to her keen interest in the sciences.

Sherlock looked over at Mollie again, and then asked, "Why did your father never remarry? Your mother died relatively young, as I remember. Most men would want to remarry soon after."

Mollie was a bit affronted by his forwardness. She found it a bit rude for Lord Holmes to be asking such questions about her personal life and her family; quite frankly, it wasn't his business. However, considering her station and rank, she decided to shut out the thoughts of his rudeness and instead answer the question. She considered his question for a moment before hesitantly beginning her answer.

"Well, he really loved my Mum, you know? When she passed, I was just a little baby, but people in the village talk about how he cried for days on end after her death. Even now, I know he aches for her. When I'm watching him, he seems happy, but when he thinks I'm looking away, you can tell he's miserable. I just don't think someone else ever came into his life who could come close to replacing Mum. When you are that in love with someone, you can't just move on."

Lord Holmes stared at her for a second. Then he said, "Oh, you were being serious. And here I thought you were joking.

At this point, Molly became angry. Who was this man, mocking her feelings, her thoughts, and her upbringing? Who exactly did he think he was? She felt that her face must have communicated the mixture of hurt and seething anger that she was feeling rising to a boil within her soul. Despite her expressive countenance, Lord Holmes seemed nonplussed. She could feel her heart pounding with the desire to yell at this awful pompous _prat, _when he continued to speak.

"Romantic love is a myth. It is simply two people projecting ideas and expectations on one another and pretending that their partner actually can uphold these ideals. I think all that emotional turmoil and drama would be an annoying distraction, not to mention absolutely exhausting."

Molly wanted to lash out at Lord Holmes, wanted to cry, and wanted to show him how wrong he was. She felt as if he had invalidated her parents' love for one another and her own ideas in one fell swoop. But instead of doing any of those things, she was surprised at the words that came from her mouth, unbidden, in the next instant.

"That is the most awful thing I've heard anyone say. I want to be angry at you, but I just feel sorry for you. You'll never feel the love and happiness that my parents had, because you would rather let yourself be miserable for the sake of logic."

She bit her lip, clenched her fists, and diverted her eyes to the ground. She waited for him to reprimand her, to tell her to remember her place. The reprimand never came. She finally chanced a glance back up at his face, and saw him looking down at her with what may have been...regret? Hurt? A second later, he looked up, and his jaw set firm again, his face a mask of indifference and nonchalance. With this rapid schooling of features, Mollie was surprised at his next utterance.

"I am sorry if I caused you offense. Please believe in my sincerity."

He never looked at her as he said any of this, almost as though it pained him to speak the words, to appear humble in front of Mollie. Mollie was speechless for a few moments, and then quietly said, "Thank you, your Lordship."

They walked in silence the rest of the way until they reached the door of the manor. Lord Holmes reached up and grasped the large metal knocker on the door, and quickly rapped it against the door a few times before letting it rest. Shortly afterwards, an elderly lady opened the door. When she saw who it was, she smiled at Lord Holmes and nodded at Mollie in acknowledgement. The older woman then spoke in a rather cheery voice to Mollie and Lord Holmes.

"Sherlock, dear, come inside! Danny is readying your bags right now! Are you going to be staying in Ripon tonight after your shopping trip, or are you coming back to the manor?"

Mollie was surprised by the level of familiarity that this woman addressed Lord Holmes with, but he did not seem to be affronted by her manner of address at all. Instead, he smoothly replied in his velvety voice, saying,

"Mrs. Hudson, I'd like to introduce you to Mollie Hooper. She is the village apothecary's daughter, and will be my traveling companion for this journey. Perhaps you could take her to the servants' quarters and give her an idea of her expected duties? We will be returning to the manor after going to Ripon today. Please have the cook prepare a dinner meal for us. I'm going to go upstairs and change into more suitable clothing."

Mrs. Hudson gestured to Mollie and said, "Right then, come with me dear. I shall discuss a few things with you before you go to Ripon with Sherlock. Is that dress the only thing you have to wear?"

When Mollie nodded meekly, Mrs. Hudson sighed and said, "Well, I suppose it'll have to do then; goodness knows a slip of a thing like you won't be able to wear any of my clothes. Come along dear, we'll go on to the servants' quarters. Have you had a thing to eat today?"

Mollie quietly said, "Yes, Mrs. Hudson, I had some porridge and water before coming here with his Lordship."

Mrs. Hudson smiled gently at her, already taking a liking to the thin, quiet little girl with the gentle brown eyes. She was worried about how the girl would get along with Sherlock, though. "I am pleased to hear that. Let me know if you feel a bit peckish and would like a bite from the kitchen. We should talk about Sherlock's eating habits first. You should know that he probably won't be eating a lot while he is working on this case- he hardly ever eats when he is investigating. He seems to think eating dulls his mind. So try not to be offended if he doesn't eat the dinners you make for him, dear."

Mollie said, "How can he sustain himself on a case when he doesn't eat?"

Mrs. Hudson sighed, then said, "That's the other thing you'll need to be watching for, dear. Sherlock has had a history of using spirits and the seed of poppies to sustain himself for longer. You'll need to keep an eye on that. At one point, his use became such a problem that his brother, Lord Mycroft, had to come down and intercede in order to save Sherlock's life and reputation. If you can, make sure he doesn't get a hold of those spirits- it will make him even more difficult to deal with than he already is."

"Already is? What do you mean by that?"

Mrs. Hudson pursed her lips, as if searching for a way to phrase things, before she finally said, "Well, Sherlock can be a bit headstrong at times. And his habits aren't exactly...normal. When you're cleaning around the house, make sure you don't move anything- he'll notice if anything has been moved, and he'll become quite upset. He says it interferes with his thought process. And you may find...surprises while you are cleaning up around your house. He enjoys doing experiments. I just hope you have a strong stomach, dear."

Mollie smiled at this comment, then said, "A strong stomach is one thing that I was blessed with, Mrs. Hudson. I am sure that I'll be able to handle whatever his Lordship surprises me with. Before we go back upstairs to meet him, can I make a small request of you?"

Mrs. Hudson nodded and said, "Of course, dear! How can I help you?"

Mollie looked at Mrs. Hudson and quietly asked, "Can you read and write?"

"Only a little bit- I'm not terribly skilled, but I can write simple letters."

"Good. Can you please write to us once I find out where we will be and inform me regularly on the health of my father, Anselm Hooper? His health has been ailing recently, and I'm worried about being out there without receiving any updates on his health."

"I'll try my best, dear. Now let's go back upstairs. I have a feeling Sherlock will become impatient if we take any longer down here."

Meanwhile, Sherlock was upstairs in his chambers. He had called for one of the younger servant boys to come up to his chamber. When he heard the nervous knock at the chamber door, he opened it to find a wide-eyed boy who couldn't have been more than fourteen.

"Are you Danny?" he asked.

The boy silently nodded in affirmation. Sherlock then said, "Danny, I need you to do a favor for me. Do you know the apothecary on this estate?" Danny silently nodded again, looking slightly less nervous.

"Good. I am leaving for Oxford tomorrow with his daughter as my travel companion. I will need you to stay with him and be his assistant until I return from Oxford. Can you do that?"  
"Yes, your Lordship."

"Alright. You may go down to his shop now- I believe he has just opened for business a short time ago."

The boy darted out the door, seeming in a rush to get away from Sherlock's chamber. "_Am I really that intimidating to people?" _Sherlock mused. Perhaps he was. He knew that his forthright manner frequently alienated others. _Like Molly. _Sherlock curled his lips into a small smirk. It was certainly going to be an interesting journey with her. He had been somewhat surprised at her open declaration of her feelings on his statement during their walk to the manor. How her open temperament would steer the rest of the journey remained to be seen. He straightened the collar on his jacket and turned to the door, ready to travel to Ripon. He reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the front hall of the manor to find Mrs. Hudson and Mollie both waiting for him.

He looked towards Mollie and said, "I'm ready to leave for Ripon. Are you ready to leave?" Mollie nodded in response. "Good. The carriage should be waiting out front."

When they reached the door of the carriage, Sherlock offered his hand to help Mollie get up into the carriage. Mollie gratefully took it and stepped into the carriage. Once they were both comfortably situated inside the carriage and headed towards Ripon, Mollie decided to ask a question that had been nagging at her mind for the better part of the morning.

"My Lord, why did Mrs. Hudson speak to you with such familiarity? I wouldn't expect a servant of the house to be able to address you so casually without reproach."

Sherlock looked out the window of the carriage for a moment before quietly saying, "Mrs. Hudson is more than a house servant to me."

Mollie was taken aback by this statement; she also wasn't quite sure what he meant with it. "How are you acquainted to her?"

Sherlock said, "She was my nurse when I was a baby, and my governess as I grew older. I do not like to discuss my family, but understand that Mrs. Hudson is the closest thing I have to family."

Mollie nodded, and chose to remain quiet for the remainder of the journey so as not to overstep her bounds. She could feel that Lord Holmes was a troubled soul, clearly plagued by issues that ran deep from his childhood. She wished she could do more to help him, but felt that perhaps the best thing she could do at this point would be to give him privacy.

When they arrived in Ripon, Lord Holmes said, "I'll be taking you to a dressmaker's shop this morning. They'll fit you into your dresses this morning, and tomorrow morning we will retrieve the dresses before we leave on our journey." The carriage slowed to a halt, and Lord Holmes stepped out of the carriage and held out his hand to her so that she could safely exit. He then set off across the street to the dressmaker's shop, Mollie following close behind him. When they entered the shop, the dressmakers and seamstresses all looked up from their work, a little surprised to see a man entering the shop. They looked even more surprised to see a peasant girl following close behind him.

Sherlock wasted no time in making his demands clear. "Good morning. I'm willing to pay you a significant sum of money for you to have five dresses prepared for this girl by tomorrow morning. Can you do that?"

One of the dressmakers (Mollie assumed she was the head dressmaker), quickly responded, saying, "Yes, sir, we can have five ready by the morning. We have cutouts prepared on some designs already, and we can tailor them to her and have them ready quickly. What will you be needing, miss?" At this, the dressmaker looked at Mollie. Mollie had no idea what she would need, so she looked back to Lord Holmes. Lord Holmes looked back to the dressmaker, and said, "She'll be needing two dresses appropriate for social functions in high society, one dress appropriate for receiving company, and two dresses appropriate for a housekeeper." Lord Holmes then looked back at Mollie, and quietly said, "I'll be back in a few hours to collect you." He nodded at the dressmaker, and left the shop.

After Lord Holmes exited the shop, Mollie felt painfully awkward and self-conscious. She was wearing the clothes of a dowdy peasant girl, and she could feel the judgment of every woman working in the shop upon her. What did they think of her? What assumptions were they making about her? After a few more seconds of awkward silence, the head dressmaker cleared her throat, and said, "Come to the back with me. We'll get you down to your undergarments and start fitting you." The dressmaker gestured to a few of the seamstresses to follow her to the back.

When they got to the back, Mollie quietly said, "What did you mean by undergarments, miss?"

The dressmaker furrowed her brow in confusion for a moment, then her eyes widened as she exclaimed, "You mean to say you have no proper undergarments, child? That simply won't do. We have to outfit you with undergarments if you are to look proper in society. Stand up on the pedestal here and undress yourself. We'll retrieve you some undergarments to fit you into."

Mollie couldn't believe it. She was going to have to undress in front of women she had only just met. Mollie didn't enjoy this concept for a number of reasons; among them, the fact that she felt enormously insecure about her body. She was painfully thin, something that most people did not find attractive. As Mollie pulled off her stockings, she wondered if Lord Holmes found her attractive. Perhaps that was why he asked her to pose as his wife? Mollie removed her bodice and tunic right as the dressmaker and seamstresses returned to the fitting area.

"My, my, you're nothing more than a twig, are you child? Well, I'll fit your dresses a bit looser, as I hope that your benefactor will help you to put some meat on your bones to fill out the dress a bit more."

The dressmaker handed Mollie a small piece of fabric with three wide holes cut into it first. She said, "You slip your legs through the bottom two holes, and it will hold around your waist. It's to cover your womanly parts." Mollie nodded and put on the garment as instructed. She thought it looked a bit like a diaper they put on the babies, but she decided if this is what the fashionable ladies wore, she too could wear it. Next, Mollie was handed a loose white dress that was much shorter than a conventional dress. When she put it on, it only came halfway down her thigh. The dressmaker explained, "This is a chemise. You wear it under your dress for modesty." Finally, she was handed a long white skirt. Mollie put on the skirt. The dressmaker smiled and said, "Now that you're properly in your undergarments, we can fit you in your dresses." The first one that was brought out was a plain cream colored linen dress with long sleeves. Mollie put on the dress. Then, a light blue bodice with a blue apron attached to it was brought out to wear over the dress. The seamstresses tightened the bodice to an appropriate point, then stepped back to inspect the fit of the dress. The dressmaker said, "I think we can let this dress be. Take it off, and we'll hang it up for you to wear for your journey back." Mollie nodded and went through the process of trying on one more dress that was fairly similar to the first dress, although the color of the bodice was light yellow, not blue. After she had removed that dress, the dressmaker said, "Since money seems to be of no object, we're going to fit you in one of our finest sitting dresses." Mollie took a deep breath. She had always lived a simple life out of necessity, and the prospect of receiving fine things made her incredibly excited.

The dressmaker returned with a light blue dress that opened in the middle to a dark blue underlay. The dress was held together in the middle by bodice strings that Mollie assumed would go around her waist. Mollie obediently slipped on the dress, hoping that it would fit. She was disappointed to see that no matter how tight the bodice strings were pulled, the dress was still much too loose. The dressmaker waved her hands and said, "No matter. We will make some adjustments so that you'll be able to fit into it." The dressmaker then announced, "Let's fit you into your ball dresses now. I have a few ideas of some lovely looks for you." Mollie was stunned by the beautiful dresses that the dressmaker brought back. One was a deep red color, made of a shiny, soft fabric with gold lacing for the bodice and gold details. The other dress was a deep purple color, was cut low in the front, and had a gold-embroidered sash around the waist. When Mollie tried on the red one, she didn't think she had ever felt more beautiful. She also didn't feel quite like herself. Somehow, the woman in a red dress who looked back at her in the mirror seemed too vixen-like and seductive to be the Mollie Hooper that she knew herself to be. However, she also knew that she was neither a noblewoman nor the wife of a nobleman. Therefore, there was no hurt in playing a bit of dress up for a short period of time. The dress was, again, a bit too large on her, but the dressmaker assured her it would be adjusted to an appropriate fit by tomorrow morning. The purple dress was equally lovely, if a bit more modest in its cut and fabric. Mollie gently ran her fingers over the fabric, which was oddly soft and rough depending on which direction your fingers moved on it. This dress was also too large, and the heaviness of the fabric made it droop off of her body like a damp rag. The dressmaker told her to take the dress off. The dressmaker then did some measurements on Mollie in order to estimate her size and needs for the cuts on the dresses. After a few moments of hemming and hawing, the dressmaker gave her back the linen dress that she had first tried on.

"You're all done, dear! Go right ahead and put on that dress, then you can wait for Lord Holmes to come collect you and pay for your new dresses."

Mollie smiled and quietly thanked the dressmaker, then pulled on the plain dress that she had first tried on. While it was nowhere near as elegant as the last dresses Mollie was fitted in, she still admired how much more attractive she looked in a dress that fit properly, and was made for a lady, not for a peasant girl. When Mollie stepped out to the front of the shop, the dressmaker cheerily announced that she had chosen headdresses for Mollie to wear to social functions. She indicated said headdresses with a grand sweep of her arm. Mollie stepped closer to the proffered table, and gasped at the beauty of the headdresses that had been selected. The first one was a simple gold circlet, with a ruby on each side, and a sheer red veil to accompany it. The second one was a silver circlet, with lavender ribbons attached to it. The dressmaker said, "Many young ladies will braid ribbons like those into their hair when they go to the ball." Mollie smiled and nodded, acknowledging to herself that she might do the same thing when the occasion arose. Once she was finished admiring the headpieces, Mollie took a seat near the window of the shop. She leaned her head against the wall, closed her eyes, and let herself be caught up in fantasies of being swept off her feet in a ballroom by a certain handsome, dark haired man with piercing blue eyes…

"Right then. I see that you've enjoyed your fitting a bit too much. Don't let it go to your head. Draping oneself in a chair is never a good look for a housekeeper."

Mollie inwardly groaned at the now-familiar baritone voice. She couldn't help but think that her dashing, dark-haired prince was perhaps more attractive when he was mute...


	4. Author's Note! Exciting News!

AN: I know this isn't a chapter, but I think I'll have one uploaded later tonight, so no worries, my dears! I just wanted to let y'all know that I'm starting a playlist for this fanfic. It's on Spotify, so if you search "King and Lionheart Playlist" on Spotify, you should be able to find it. All the chapter titles in this fic are also song titles, and each song I think fits the characters and their situations very well. I'll update the playlist with each new chapter! Enjoy. :)


	5. Hardest of Hearts

King and Lionheart: Chapter 4

_AN: See, I told y'all I'd have a chapter uploaded by the end of the day! Thanks for all the reviews- I got one reviewer who said they couldn't find the playlist on Spotify. If any of the rest of you are having trouble finding it, PM me and I'll send you a list of songs thus far. Other than that, I hope you enjoy this chapter- I had a lot of fun writing it! :) _

* * *

As Sherlock stepped out of the dress shop, he quietly pondered his next errand. He had already forged the necessary documents to make his sham of a "marriage" seem convincing to any who may ask questions or raise an eyebrow. However, he also was cognizant of the fact that there were social constructs and societal expectations he must adhere to in order to truly make this ploy seem authentic. That required the delicate task of purchasing jewelry. While some noblemen enjoyed buying rings, chains, and other gaudy ornaments for themselves, Sherlock had never been particularly interested in these frivolities. So it was with great trepidation that he approached the jeweler's shop across the road from the dressmaker's shop. The jeweler was at the counter when Sherlock entered into the shop. He looked up, and graciously greeted Sherlock with an enthusiastic, "Lord Holmes! What can I do for you today, sir?"

Sherlock looked back at the jeweler, then crisply said, "I come to you with some needs of personal import. I would like for you to exercise your greatest discretion when mentioning my visit. What sort of women's jewelry do you currently have here in the store? I need two rings for a very slender woman, and a ring for myself as well."

The jeweler replied cheerfully with, "We currently have a great variety of rings in stock, and I'm sure that we can find a ring to fit the woman that you speak of! What sort of rings are you looking for, exactly?"

Sherlock eyed the jeweler before carefully beginning with, "I need a ring appropriate for proposing engagement."

The jeweler's eyes widened as Sherlock continued, "I will also need two wedding bands. One for the woman, one for myself."

The jeweler sputtered out, "Lord Holmes- but I, I hadn't heard that you were announced to be engaged! I didn't know that you were even officially courting any ladies at this time!"

Sherlock cut off the surprised jeweler, quickly interjecting, "Exactly. I am neither truly engaged nor courting. That is why your discretion on this matter is not only advised, but also absolutely necessary. Can I trust you on this? Because I can take my business elsewhere. If you prove your trustworthiness, I will reward you handsomely."

The jeweler quickly nodded, and said, "Of course, your Lordship! Would you like to see the rings we have on hand?"

Sherlock curtly nodded, and followed the jeweler back to one of the large wooden cabinets where jewelry was stored. The jeweler pulled out a tray; on the tray was a vast array of glittering jewelry. Sherlock looked over the tray, carefully examining each piece of jewelry, until he finally came upon a simple silver setting with an amethyst in the center. It was very small, and Sherlock knew that it would fit Mollie's small, delicate hands perfectly. He had observed in the dressmaker's shop how Mollie's eyes immediately moved to the purple dresses first, and how her eyes lingered on the purple dresses for the longest. It was obvious that she had a deep love for the color purple, and that she longed for elegant simplicity in the things she wore. Sherlock pointed to the simple amethyst ring and said, "That one seems that it will do. May I see your wedding bands? Remember, the woman's will go on a very slender finger." The jeweler nodded, placing the amethyst ring in a small wooden box. He then put away the first tray, only to pull out a second tray filled with small, simple wedding bands. The jeweler said, "These rings are really made for young women when they take their first communion. However, if your companion has small hands, they may suit her as a wedding band." Sherlock nodded, once again perusing the wedding band, paying careful attention to detail. He wanted a silver wedding band to match Mollie's engagement ring; after a few moments of looking, he found a thin, silver wedding band that seemed a perfect companion to Mollie's amethyst setting. Sherlock picked that one up and told the jeweler to put it in a box with the amethyst setting. He then proceeded to look over the men's rings. After looking at men's rings for a few minutes, he found a thick silver band that seemed to fit his finger well. He put his ring in the box with Mollie's rings, then wrote out a cheque for the sum that the jeweler requested for the rings.

Sherlock was about to leave the shop when he turned around to the shopkeeper and said, "A young woman's good reputation rests upon your absolute discretion in this matter. I will compensate you once I return from Ripon- I want to make sure her reputation has been preserved before I give you any sum of money." The shopkeeper nodded vigorously in response, watching as Sherlock swept out of the shop. He couldn't help but wonder to himself what this woman meant to Lord Holmes, considering the lengths to which he was going to preserve her reputation.

* * *

After making his scathing comment on Mollie's current state of repose in the dressmaker's shop, Mollie quickly hopped to her feet. As she did so, Sherlock looked her up and down carefully. He found himself slightly disappointed that this new dress of hers no longer revealed her thin, stocking-covered legs. However, the more fitted bodice and lower cut of the dress she wore now were very attractive in other areas that did not escape Sherlock's notice. Her long, thin neck was fully revealed, as were her collarbones. He quickly shook his head, dismissing these thoughts as a distraction. He could not afford to let himself become caught up in speculations about Mollie's body, particularly because she was going to be his sole companion over the next few months. He would lose focus on the case if he thought too much of Mollie's admittedly attractive appearance.

"Have you been fitted in the appropriate garments, Mollie?"

"Yes, my Lord, I have been fitted into everything I might need."

"Very well. I'll write a cheque to the dressmaker, and then we will return to the carriage."

Sherlock quickly wrote a cheque out to the dressmaker, then gestured to Mollie to follow him out of the shop. He helped her back up into the carriage, and once they were comfortably settled inside, Sherlock held out the wooden box from the jeweler to Mollie.

"Try these on. They looked to me as though they would fit, but I can't be sure until you try them on."

When Mollie opened the smooth little box, she gasped. Inside were two of the most beautiful rings she had ever seen. She took the silver band and slipped it over her ring finger first. She then slipped on the ring with the purple stone; after she had put on her rings, she stretched out her arm to admire the jewelry's sparkle in the light.

"Thank you, Lord Holmes. These are beautiful, and they fit perfectly. How did you know what I would like?"

"A few simple deductions from observing your behavior. These rings will serve as our engagement ring and wedding band. Please wear them at all times, so that no one will question the authenticity of our marriage."

Mollie nodded, then slipped the rings off her finger and put them back in the box.

"You will be dining with me in the main dining room of the manor tonight. We will take our meal early, because we will need to sleep early in order to catch an early start tomorrow morning from the manor. Mrs. Hudson and the servants have prepared one of the guest chambers upstairs for you to rest in tonight. Feel free to bathe in the bathroom- you may call in one of the servant girls that we have to help you bathe if you need it."

Mollie stared at Sherlock curiously, then asked, "You have servant girls in the manor? Why did you not ask one of them to accompany you and pose as your wife?"

Sherlock then said, "The girls who work in the manor are usually no older than fourteen. Mrs. Hudson doesn't like working with girls older than that because she is worried about…fraternization…between the male and female servants."

Mollie found herself blushing out of modesty, and she delicately said, "Ah. Well then. Alright." She was frustrated with herself at becoming a blushing, bumbling ninny at the very mention of intimacy between two people. Lord Holmes, meanwhile, looked deeply amused at her embarrassment, smirking that obnoxious smirk that was always on his face when he felt he had the upper hand in a conversation.

In a desperate attempt to change the subject, Mollie said, "You mentioned I could bathe. However, I have heard that bathing is bad for the constitution. Is this true?"

Sherlock waved his hand, and said, "I think that claim is a load of rubbish. While I have yet been able to achieve a full study on it, I do encourage my servants in the castle to bathe at least twice a week. I myself bathe four times a week. There are hardly ever outbreaks of sickness within my manor. Meanwhile, on the estate, where people rarely bathe, disease runs quite rampant. I think this proves that bathing may be beneficial to one's health. I highly encourage you to indulge in it at the earliest possible convenience." He then raised an eyebrow significantly at her.

Mollie shot him a glare as her cheeks reddened- she understood the implication behind his last sentence fully. It wasn't her fault that she hadn't been able to grow up in a privileged home where water was an insignificant commodity that could be frequently used. She couldn't believe how offensive Lord Holmes could be- furthermore, he knew he was being offensive, but didn't seem to care at all! She looked out the carriage window, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm her nerves. Fortunately, after only a few more minutes, the carriage arrived in front of the manor. Lord Holmes helped Mollie out of the carriage. When they arrived at the front door, Mrs. Hudson greeted them, and informed them supper would be served in two hours' time. Mollie then delicately asked Mrs. Hudson if a bath could be drawn for her in her chambers upstairs.

"Of course, dear! I shall send Ella to go draw you up a bath right away! Do you have any soap, or should I get some for you from the stores?"

Mollie answered that she had no soap; Mrs. Hudson tutted, and told Mollie to go up to her chambers- everything would be taken care of for her straight away. Mollie was led up to her chamber by a young girl who was probably no older than 12. The young girl introduced herself as Ella. Ella walked into the bathroom portion of Mollie's chamber, and leaned over into a hole that was in the wall. Mollie watched with interest as Ella pulled on a rope until a small pail full of water came up to Ella's height. Ella saw Mollie watching, and said, "Lord Holmes made this himself, after one of the younger girls was hurt carrying water pails up the stairs of the manor." Mollie nodded, touched by the softer side of Lord Holmes that had been revealed. Mollie saw that a fire had been lit in front of her bed, and that huge cauldron was hanging over the fire. Ella carried back a small pail of water, and started to fill up the cauldron. The cauldron eventually filled to brimming, and was then left to heat up. Ella helped Mollie to remove the bodice and apron covering her dress, hanging it up next to the bathroom door. She then helped Mollie to undress the rest of the way, hanging up or laying out all of Mollie's discarded layers. After Mollie had undressed, Ella said, "You can go sit in the tub, ma'am. I shall carry the water in and pour it over you, before giving you a proper scrubbing."

Mollie did as Ella requested; when Ella came in and poured a bucketful of warm water over her head, she closed her eyes with bliss. The warm water felt so good running down her skin, and she felt so refreshed at having the water cleanse her body. After Ella had filled the tub, Mollie sat still as Ella scrubbed down her skin with a scrub brush and soap. Ella then pushed Mollie back into the water and shampooed her hair out with the soap. After a solid half hour of this treatment, Ella told Mollie to step out of the tub. She then wrapped Mollie in a warm towel, and told her to sit by the fire to dry off before putting her undergarments on. After Mollie felt sufficiently dry, she put on her undergarments, then combed and plaited her hair. She saw a bottle of scented oil had been placed on her bedside table; she gently massaged the oil into her neck and arms. Finally, Mollie put on her dress and bodice. She inspected her appearance in a mirror, and deeming herself appropriate to go take supper with Lord Holmes, proceeded down the stairs.

* * *

When Mollie arrived in the dining room, she found that Lord Holmes was already sitting there, ready to eat with her. He gestured at a chair next to his own at the table, and Mollie quickly took her seat. After Mollie was seated, a servant came in with a large tureen of what looked to be a beef stew. The servant ladled soup in their bowls, and then came back and set bread beside their bowls. Mollie began eating promptly after the food was served. Remembering that she was in a formal setting, Mollie made an effort to sit up straighter and eat her stew slowly and delicately, as was expected of a lady. After consuming a few bites of her stew, Mollie asked Lord Holmes where they would be staying in Oxford.

"There is a well-kept bed and breakfast in Leicester- I always get free lodging there because I once proved the owner's son had not committed a crime he was accused of. We will be staying in that inn on the second night of our journey. I have already written to my brother Mycroft relating this to him. Mycroft is arranging for us to be lodged in a small private home in Oxford. He should have the details sorted very soon, and will be sending a letter to the inn at Leicester informing me of our housing arrangements."

After this brief conversation, Lord Holmes seemed to be engrossed in a document sitting beside his dinner plate. Mollie did not wish to disturb him, so she quietly finished her stew and bread, and then excused herself for bed.

As she made her way back up to her room, she began to wonder what sort of sleeping arrangements would be made for herself and Lord Holmes on the journey. The prospect of having to share a bed with a man was simply mortifying to her; however, she also understood that Lord Mycroft would not have anticipated Lord Holmes having more…permanent company of the opposite sex. She tried to put these thoughts to the back of her mind as she reached the door of her chambers. She quickly changed into her nightgown, and fell asleep in the comfortable feather bed shortly afterwards.

* * *

Sherlock, meanwhile, was no longer engrossed in his reading downstairs in the dining hall. He knew that putting up an appearance of being busy with something else would deter Mollie from further conversation, and he had found it very hard to focus on anything with her being so close to him. Better to be rude to her and make her feel unimportant than to risk showing weakness by displaying his growing attraction to her. He had not expected the huge improvement of appearance after Mollie had bathed and dressed, but was pleasantly surprised at the change. Mollie, who had come to him this morning covered in a layer of grime and dirt, and with hair that was pretty, if a bit greasy, had come into the dining room completely clean, with her hair looking soft, shiny, and silky, and her skin exhibiting a healthy glow. And her _smell…_she had smelled absolutely wonderful. When she sat down next to him and he had breathed in her scent, he detected notes of lemon and flowers coming off of her body, and his attraction to her scent was almost too much to bear. Sherlock was well aware that he and Mollie would most likely have to share a bed once they reached the house in Oxford. If she came to bed smelling like that every night, Sherlock was not sure he could guarantee that Mollie would return to the estate with an untarnished reputation. He got up out of the dining hall, willing the embarrassingly obvious evidence of his attraction to Mollie to go away. He didn't want to appear like a lustful schoolboy, unable to control his body and desires, in front of all the servants. Once he had entered his chambers, he pulled up a few buckets of cold water and poured them into the tub. He quickly hopped into the tub, submerging his body in the cold water and erasing any evidence of his arousal. He scrubbed off his body with soap, then toweled off, changed into his nightshirt, and laid back in his bed, eagerly anticipating what the next day's journey would bring.


	6. Off to the Races

King and Lionheart Chapter 5

_AN: Sorry it took me so long to update- I was at a conference all last week presenting research. Exciting stuff, I know. But it is exciting to nerds like me! :) I was also celebrating my birthday while at the conference, so I think I can be given some forgiveness for taking forever to update. This chapter didn't come out exactly how I wanted to- I've had a migraine, which apparently stifled my creative juices. Any feedback (or migraine cures!) y'all have is deeply appreciated. Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter. Chapter title is from "Off to the Races" by Lana Del Rey. Hugs and kisses, y'all! :)_

* * *

"Mollie, dear, do wake up. I would hate for Sherlock to be upset due to your lateness. He can have such a frightful temper sometimes."

Mollie awoke slowly to the sound of Mrs. Hudson prodding her awake. She suddenly shook herself awake when Mrs. Hudson mentioned the word "late". Mollie was _never _late. She woke up at least an hour before dawn every day like clockwork. She then considered where she was sleeping. This was undoubtedly the most comfortable bed she had ever slept in- her bed at home was a pallet on the floor, stuffed with a combination of sheep's wool and wood shavings. This bed was completely filled with feather down, and was raised several inches off the ground. Now that she thought about it, this was probably the most luxurious night's sleep she had ever experienced.

Mollie stretched and rubbed her eyes, then murmured, "I'll be up and getting ready now, Mrs. Hudson."

Mrs. Hudson nodded, then gently smiled and said, "When you are ready, you can come down to the dining room. I've had the cook fix a bite of breakfast for you and Sherlock."

Mollie quietly spoke her appreciation, and then sat on the edge of the bed until Mrs. Hudson left the room. After that, Mollie undressed herself and washed her face and underarms in the basin of water that Mrs. Hudson or Ella must have filled in the corner. She then rubbed some of the scented oils onto her neck and arms. She then put on her undergarments, before she set about taming her hair, which had become rather wild and messy during the night. After combing her hair, she ran some scented oil through it with her fingers for good measure. She then pulled on her dress and apron, pulling the bodice tight around her upper body. She grabbed the satchel that held her old tunic and stockings, and put the bottle of scented oils and the bar of soap into the satchel alongside her clothing. She then left her chambers and walked downstairs to the dining room to get some breakfast.

When she arrived in the dining room, she saw a small tureen of what looked to be hash sitting in the center of the table. Mollie also noticed some strange little round pots with spouts coming out of them sitting on the table. Lord Holmes looked up when she entered the room.

"Good morning, Mollie. I trust you slept well?"

Mollie responded in the affirmative. She sat down at the seat Lord Holmes gestured to, and ladled a bit of the hash into the bowl at her place. Before she began eating, she quietly asked Lord Holmes what was in the little pots on the table.

"It's something called tea, Mollie. I picked it up on my travels to Asia. It's quite popular over there. I find it delicious, and the Chinese swear by its healing and medicinal properties."

Mollie then quietly said, "Do you…drink it?"

Lord Holmes nodded. "You place one of these little strainers over your mug like so, and then you pour the tea over the strainer. You get all of the liquid, and none of the tea leaves. Rather ingenious."

Mollie nodded, and picked up the pot. She placed a strainer over her mug, then poured the stream of hot liquid over the strainer. She removed the strainer when her cup was full, and then took a sip of the hot beverage. She grimaced when she tasted it. "It's rather bitter, don't you think?"

Lord Holmes smiled, and said, "It is an acquired taste, I suppose. Eat up, we'll need to be on our way soon enough."

As Mollie dug into the hash, she observed Lord Holmes's manner of dressing. He was wearing relatively plain clothing this morning, clothing better suited to a modestly successful merchant than a nobleman. Mollie chose not to question his taste in clothing, and continued to quietly eat her hash. When she was finished, Lord Holmes looked up and said, "Well then, it looks like we can set off on our journey. Do you have everything you need?" Mollie quietly nodded. "Good. Let's get to the carriage, then."

When Mollie and Sherlock arrived at the front door of the manor, Mrs. Hudson reached out and hugged both of them. "Now, I've packed some bread and a few root vegetables that you'll be able to eat on tonight. I've also packed my favorite cleaning soap for you to use, Mollie. Oh, do be careful, dears. I'd like to see you both arrive home without a scratch."

Sherlock smiled indulgently, then said, "We must be off Mrs. Hudson. I know I am leaving the manor in more than capable hands."

Mrs. Hudson nodded and smiled. "Well, off you go then. Can't have you arriving late at night!"

Sherlock and Mollie then walked to the carriage, with Sherlock helping Mollie up into the carriage before entering himself. Mollie looked around the carriage once she got in, noticing the blankets and small pillows that Mrs. Hudson must have packed for them. Mollie watched as the carriage pulled away, leaving Mrs. Hudson waving at them. A few stray tears slipped from her eyes as she looked out at the estate of Bakerston. She quickly wiped them away with the back of her hands, not wanting Lord Holmes to think that she regretted his employment. As she looked out the window, the rhythmic movement of the carriage soothed her and slowly lulled her to sleep.

* * *

Sherlock appreciated Mollie's effort to hold in her emotions- he had never dealt with crying women very well. The stray tears that slipped from her eyes as she watched her home become small in the distance did not go unnoticed by his keen, observant eyes. Sherlock settled in to begin reading the latest treatise on chemistry he had received when he heard a quiet sliding sound. When he looked up, he saw that Mollie had drifted off to sleep, and was beginning to slide sideways on the bench of the carriage as it rocked to and fro. Before she hit her head on the wooden seat, Sherlock caught her upper body in his arms. He quickly grabbed one of the pillows beside him and tucked it gently under her head. He then grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her, telling himself that it was logical to do so in order to ensure that his new housekeeper wouldn't become ill with a cold. He leaned back in his seat and watched her for a moment as she slept. She looked very pretty with the smooth, peaceful expression on her face. Her lips were parted slightly open, and her shoulders rose and fell gently in her sleep. Once he was content that she was soundly sleeping, he turned back to his treatise on chemistry.

An hour or so into the ride, the driver halted in front of the dress shop in Ripon that Mollie had been fitted in yesterday. Sherlock took a quick look back at Mollie, happy to see she was still asleep, before leaving the carriage. Sherlock then rapped on the door of the dress shop with his knuckles. A minute or so afterwards, the dressmaker he had met with yesterday swung open the door.

"Lord Holmes, welcome back! You are here to pick up the dresses?"

Sherlock nodded curtly. The dressmaker gestured for him to come inside the shop. Once the door was closed behind her, she passed Sherlock eight neatly wrapped packages.

"I only ordered five dresses to be made for Mollie, one of which she is wearing. What are the extra packages?"

The dressmaker quickly responded with, "She needs proper headdresses as well to wear to the balls she might be attending, so those are wrapped up separately. It also seems the girl had no proper undergarments to be wearing, so I ordered two extra sets for her."

Sherlock nodded and thanked the dressmaker. Having paid the day before, he then took his leave from the shop. After exiting the shop, he passed off the packages to the driver and asked him to keep the packages stored with all the rest of their luggage in the secret compartment below the carriage. Most people who owned carriages were content with stacking all of their luggage on top of the carriage. However, Sherlock believed this practice was rather foolish. What better way to make oneself an open target to bandits than by setting all of your possessions on top of your mode of transport? As such, when Sherlock had his carriage built, he had ensured that it was modest in its outward design so that it would be less likely of a target from thieves. He had also commissioned for larger wheels on the carriage to pick it up higher off the ground so that there would be room on the bottom of the carriage for a compartment to store all of their luggage. Most importantly, whenever Sherlock traveled, he chose a modest form of dress so as to conceal his true wealth. He was grateful Mollie had unconsciously mirrored his humble attire today- it made their portrayal of a married couple more convincing, and reduced their likelihood of becoming a victim of crime. He had noticed Mollie's surprised glance at his clothing that morning at breakfast. He was pleased that she had refrained from impertinent questions about his choice of dress. He truly hated having to answer silly questions. With a satisfied grunt, he settled back into his seat and continued reading his treatise.

* * *

When Mollie stirred awake again, she was surprised to find a pillow under her head and a blanket around her shoulders. She gently blinked her eyes a few times before looking over at Lord Holmes. He was engrossed in a book laying in his lap. However, when Mollie shifted up to a sitting position, Lord Holmes looked up.

Mollie quietly murmured, "Thank you for the blanket and pillow. They kept me quite comfortable."

Lord Holmes waved his hand dismissively and flicked his eyes back down to his book. "It made sense to keep you warm. You wouldn't be much use to me ill."

Mollie quietly said, "Thank you all the same, my Lord."

Lord Holmes grunted noncommittally and returned to reading his book. Mollie wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders and leaned back in the seat, letting her body relax and her mind go to the reaches of her imagination.

A few more hours later, Mollie was stirred from her daydreaming by Lord Holmes speaking to her. "Mollie, you need to put on the rings now. We're almost to the inn."

Mollie nodded and held out her hand to take the rings from Lord Holmes. She first slipped the amethyst ring onto her left ring finger, then followed with the silver wedding band. She felt the carriage pull to a halt, and adjusted her skirt and hair so as to look appropriate when she exited the carriage. She then looked up at Lord Holmes and asked, "Where are we at, my Lord?"

Sherlock swiftly responded with, "We are in Mansfield." He then stepped out of the carriage and offered Mollie his arm as she followed out behind him. Mollie linked arms with him once she had stepped out, and they approached the front door of the inn. Lord Holmes told the driver to wait with the carriage until he came back outside. Mollie tripped once keeping up with Lord Holmes's swift footsteps to the door, but after that increased her pace in order to keep up with him. When Lord Holmes opened the door, they were met by a young girl sweeping the floor.

"Is the innkeeper about?"

The little girl nodded and ran to the back. Sherlock and Mollie waited patiently for a few moments, before a man who appeared to be in his late twenties emerged from the back room.

"How can I help you?"

"My wife and I need lodgings for tonight. Do you have any open rooms or cottages?"

The innkeeper nodded. "We've just had a new vacancy in the cottage out behind the inn. If you'd like to stay there for tonight, it's yours. Will you be requiring a meal?"

Sherlock shook his head. "My wife will be cooking for us. However, if you could give us a small cut of whatever meat you have on hand, you can add that to our bill for tonight."

The innkeeper nodded, and said, "Let me go to the back and tell my wife. She'll cut off some meat for you. In the meantime, if you could please count out the money for your stay tonight, I'd be much obliged. It'll be 18 shillings for the cottage and meat tonight."

Sherlock nodded and reached into his pocket to pull out his money sack while the innkeeper went to the back to speak with his wife. He counted out the shilling notes, and when the innkeeper returned to the front, he gave the innkeeper the money. The innkeeper passed Sherlock the wrapped cut of meat, and a set of keys for the cottage. Sherlock thanked the innkeeper, then led Mollie back out the door. Sherlock told the carriage driver to bring in all of Mollie's packages, and to bring in his smallest trunk, as well as the sack of food that Mrs. Hudson had packed for them. The driver nodded, and Sherlock and Mollie walked over to the small cottage. Sherlock unlocked the door, and held it open for Mollie, who walked in through the doors.

Mollie looked around the small cottage. It was modest but cozy. There was a bedroom off to the left with a large, fluffy bed, a small kitchen to the right, and a dining area in the center of the cottage. Mollie first went over to the fireplace in the kitchen and started a fire. She then grabbed a candle from the table and lit it in the fire. She began to light the lamps around the cottage in order to illuminate the place some. She then hung a pot on top of the fire, and poured some water from a jug by the door into the cauldron. She took the cut of meat that the driver had just brought in and chopped it up before tossing it into the pot. She then left it to simmer in the pot for a few minutes. Lord Holmes walked back into the dining area and commented, "Whatever you are cooking smells quite good." Mollie smiled back at him and murmured, "Thank you."

Mollie chopped up a few turnips, onions and carrots and tossed them into the pot. After letting them cook a few more minutes, Mollie tore up some bread and put it into the pot, stirring it around to let the bread soak up some of the liquid and thicken the stew. She then filled two bowls with the stew, and set the bowls on the table. Lord Holmes walked to the table and sat down across from Mollie. He tentatively tried the stew; after a moment's pause, he gave a nod of appreciation, and then continued to eat the stew. Mollie finished her bowl before Lord Holmes did; it seemed like he kept getting lost in thought between bites of stew. When he was done with his meal, Mollie picked up his bowl and took them both to a wash basin next to the hearth, where she washed the bowls with soap and a rag. When she was done washing them out, she set them out on the table to dry. She then covered the pot of stew with a cloth to prevent rats and bugs from getting into it. She grabbed a pan hanging next to the hearth, and then took a ladle and scooped hot coals out of the hearth to fill the pan. She then wrapped the pan in a towel and carried it over to the bedroom. She slipped the warm pan in between the bedcovers; Lord Holmes looked curious as he watched her do this.

"I've always done this in my house for my father to warm up his bed before he goes to sleep. I hope that it will help to rid him of his illness."

"Well, I suppose that makes sense. You can go ahead and change into your bedclothes now. I'll change outside in the dining area."

Mollie then looked up and asked the question that she had been dancing around throughout the whole day, "Where will you be sleeping tonight, my Lord?"

Lord Holmes looked back at her, tilted his head to the side, and said, "Well, I'll be sharing a bed with you, of course. I don't much fancy giving up my bed to you, and I also don't feel quite right making you sleep on the floor tonight." With that, he left the bedroom, shutting the door behind him to give Mollie privacy while she changed.

Mollie bit her lip with anxiety as she removed her dress, bodice, and underskirt. The prospect of sharing a bed with Lord Holmes was incredibly intimidating to her. There was the lack of propriety to consider, and also the intimacy of the gesture. Having a man lying so close to her while she was so scantily clothed was quite disconcerting. Mollie continued on her worried train of thought as she braided her hair to prevent it from tangling during the night. She was stirred from her fretful thoughts by a knocking at the door and the deep voice of Lord Holmes asking if she was properly clothed for bed.

"Just a moment," she called back to him.

She scampered over to the bed and tucked herself under the soothingly warm covers before calling out that Lord Holmes could enter. He carried a single candle with him, and Mollie was pleased to see that he had snuffed out the candles in the other room. His nightshirt trailed down to his knees, and was extremely loose on his tall, thin figure. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and murmured, "We won't have to wake nearly so early tomorrow morning. We'll be dining with the innkeeper and his wife tomorrow night in Leicester."

Mollie intended to respond with a sentence, but what came out instead was something a bit like a squeak. She breathed in and out, willing her mind and body to relax. Unfortunately, they were not feeling very cooperative, and as such her body only tensed further when Lord Holmes blew out the candle and laid next to her. Her mind was teeming with thoughts of the improper nature of the situation, and it was all she could do to keep the words from spilling past her lips.

Mollie's panicky thoughts were once again interrupted by Lord Holmes, who drily murmured, "Mollie Hooper, you should know that there is no threat to your purity from me. You can relax. I can practically taste the tension in your body, but know that I will not harm you."

Mollie swiftly nodded, then closed her eyes, focusing on breathing deeply and relaxing the muscles in her body. As she relaxed her body, she realized just how tired she was. She let the exhaustion seep in, and fell asleep shortly afterwards.


	7. Melodies and Desires

King and Lionheart: Chapter 6

_AN: Happy day! New chapter! Quick shout out to the anonymous reviewer who gave me some constructive criticism on the last chapter- I just wanted to say that you caught my greatest weakness as a writer (repetitive sentence structure). So thanks for that! I'm so excited by all the favorites, follows and reviews I'm getting! You all are wonderful! The title from this chapter comes from "Melodies and Desires" by Lykke Li. It's a pretty cool song, and if you check the spotify playlist, it's on there. It just has a very medieval feel to it. I had a BLAST writing this chapter- I hope y'all enjoy reading half as much as I enjoyed writing it! :) Oh, and as a farm girl, I just have to make a quick shout-out for National Cow Appreciation Day, which is TODAY! Hugs and kisses!_

* * *

Mollie was awoken to the sounds of pacing inside the bedroom. Her body quickly transitioned to being awake- Mollie was neither a heavy sleeper nor slow to wake. She threw an arm out to the side to see if Lord Holmes was lying beside her still. It was immediately discovered that her bedmate was conspicuously absent.

"You're awake."

Mollie heard this from the far end of the bedroom, and instantaneously identified it as the voice of Lord Holmes. Mollie murmured back, "It was a bit tough to continue sleeping with you prancing about like a deer."

Lord Holmes responded back with, "Your snide attempts at humor are not appreciated. I was deliberating on a new theory I'm considering on testing out with chemistry once we become a bit more settled. Movement helps me think."

Mollie bit her lip- as excited as she was about the prospect of a chemistry experiment occurring in her own living quarters, she knew that it wasn't proper for a lady, much less a housekeeper, to take a keen interest in these matters. She settled for letting out a hum of understanding to respond to Lord Holmes. She heard him approach the bed, and squinted a bit as he lit the candle next to the bed. "What time is it?"

Lord Holmes responded, "It's probably about seven hours into the morning, judging by the position of the sun in the sky."

"Can I request a bit of privacy, and perhaps a bit more light, so that I can wash up and change? The faster I get changed, the sooner you can have some breakfast."

Lord Holmes grunted dismissively, "I don't really care for much breakfast this morning. But I'll open the curtains and light another candle for you to change." Mollie nodded with appreciation. She waited in bed patiently with her legs and chest covered as Lord Holmes lit another candle and opened one of the curtains. She was going to attempt to preserve at least _some_ of her modesty in the light of the day. After Lord Holmes had left the room, she rolled out of bed. She loosened the top string of her chemise and pulled it off so that her chest was exposed and it hung around her hips. She gratefully observed that there was a jug of water in the far corner of the bedroom to fill the washbasin with. After she had filled the washbasin with water, she splashed some of the cold water on her face and underarms. She loosened her hair from its braid and combed through it with her fingers. She dabbed a little bit of oil onto her neck and behind her ears, and was getting ready to pick out a dress, when she realized she had a big problem- none of her dresses were here in the bedroom. Mollie knew she would have to ask Lord Holmes to come back in and bring in her undergarments and a fresh dress. She sighed, acknowledging the fact that her body was being ridiculously embarrassing. The cold air had made her nipples stick out rather obviously, and her bare calves and part of her thighs would be bared to his gaze. Mollie didn't really want to ask for Lord Holmes to come in, but she also didn't want to keep freezing in her thin chemise. With a deep breath to strengthen her resolve, she leaned out the door and called, "My Lord? I need a bit of help."

"Yes, I suppose you will be needing a dress to wear today."

Mollie suddenly blushed red with a combination of anger and embarrassment. "You _knew _my dresses weren't in the bedroom?!"

"Well, I consider myself an observant person, and since I hadn't seen them in the bedroom, I assumed they weren't there. But they are out here on top of my trunk near the lounge."

"Why didn't you think to bring them to me?"

"Well, you didn't ask."

Mollie could practically hear the smirk on his face as he uttered his last retort. She breathed in and out through her nose, willing herself to calm down before she said something she'd regret. "Will you _please _bring me my yellow cotton dress and apron? And a set of fresh undergarments?"

Lord Holmes responded with, "Well, when you ask with such lovely manners, I can't deny you."

Mollie huffed out a breath with frustration, and walked away from the door, trying to readjust her chemise so it wasn't below her chest anymore. However, when the door creaked open behind her without a knock first, she was so shocked that she spun around on her heel…only realizing afterwards that she hadn't pulled up her chemise to cover her breasts. Lord Holmes's eyebrows shot sky-high, and Mollie let out a squeal of mortification as she frantically crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to shield her breasts from his sight. She felt a large quantity of blood rush up to her face. She backed towards the wall with her arms still tightly crossed as Lord Holmes walked towards the bed.

"I'll just leave the dress here for you."

Mollie nodded, still unable to speak. She felt even more humiliated when the smug bastard turned back around and very obviously looked her up and down. As he walked towards the door, he commented, "It's a good thing that dress is very thick- you do seem to be rather cold today." Mollie let out a little shout of rage and threw a bar of soap at the door that he swiftly shut. She quickly dressed, and after readjusting her hair once more, left the bedroom.

Breakfast was an awkward affair that morning. Lord Holmes was reading something, and barely touched the breakfast hash that Mollie had created with the previous night's leftovers. As Mollie picked up the bowls and washed them once again, she tried very hard to avoid looking at Lord Holmes, or interacting with him in any way other than a few cursory questions and comments about breakfast.

* * *

Shortly after they had finished breakfast, Sherlock went out to the carriage and told the driver to pack up his and Mollie's things in the cottage. While the driver packed all the luggage, Sherlock went back to the innkeeper's house and returned the key to the cottage. When he returned to his and Mollie's cottage, he found her outside shivering in the early morning air. He realized then that the one thing he had neglected to have fitted for her was a proper winter coat.

"Mollie, come to the carriage. I can't have you catching your death in this cold."

He told the driver to open up the trunk with his outerwear in it. The driver pulled out the trunk, and Sherlock swung it open, revealing a number of wool coats and scarves. He picked out one of the coats that only came to his knee, knowing it would reach well down to Mollie's mid-calf. He wrapped the coat around her shoulders, and wrapped the scarf tightly around her neck. She looked up at him gratefully (those pupils were dilated again), and it appeared that she was about to thank him. Sherlock waved his hand, and said, "It's nothing. Don't thank me."

* * *

After they were comfortably settled into the carriage and off on their journey again, Mollie felt it important to change the tone of the morning from awkward to at least somewhat congenial.

"Lord Holmes, I have to ask. Primo genitor is the usual policy for inheritance. How did you become lord of the manor and estate when you are the younger son?"

Lord Holmes looked back at her like he was sizing her up for a moment. Finally, it looked like something shifted, and he opened his mouth to answer her. Slowly, he began, "I became Lord of the estate when I was 18. Before, Mycroft had been in charge of the estate. Previously, I had been involved in things that weren't exactly…proper. I had been involved with a woman in London, and frequently consumed substances meant to numb my senses and mind. My mother…well, she doesn't really matter. But Mrs. Hudson was out of her mind with worry, and Mycroft was concerned, too. I've never been able to suss out if it was concern for the family reputation or concern for my well-being. Regardless, Mycroft made a bargain with me. If I would return home to the manor and stop using the substances that I had been using, then he would let me take control of the estate and manor, and give me a significant portion of the family's wealth. My mind was somewhat dulled at the time, but it was still clear what the more logical choice was. I have yet to regret the choice I made."

Mollie was surprised at how candid Lord Holmes was with her about his troubled past; it spoke greatly to his level of trust in her. She resolved then to never break that trust, no matter what the cost to her. She wanted to ask him about the woman he had been involved with, but thought better of it. There were some things best left unsaid, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know about a woman in Lord Holmes's past. She felt herself drawn to him against her will and her better judgment. The way he had looked at her body in the bedroom at the cottage had scandalized her at the time; now, it sent a thrill down her spine, and triggered a fluttering in her stomach. Thinking about his experiences with other women was akin to squeezing lemon juice on a wound; it hurt, and resolved nothing. Instead, she closed her eyes, and let herself drift off to sleep.

Sherlock watched Mollie as she peacefully slept. He had felt incredibly attracted to her that morning in the bedroom. He had only felt deeply attracted to one other woman in his life (_the _woman), but his attraction to Mollie that morning was of a different nature. When she had turned towards him with her chest bared, the innocent blush that crossed her cheeks had made him want to gently lay her down on the bed and touch her until she moaned and sighed. With The Woman, he had never felt such tender feelings. It was always rushed and selfish for him, and the feeling was quite mutual. Sherlock could feel himself growing hard as he thought about Mollie's bare breasts and long, slender legs. He was thankful that the warm cloak he wore shielded his crotch from plain sight.

He was also surprised at how open he had been with Mollie about his past. He and The Woman had spoken on terms of attraction, never emotional intimacy. It was an unspoken condition of their relationship- little emotional commitment, and a plethora of sexual benefits. He had seen in Mollie's eyes how strongly she desired to question him further, and he appreciated that she didn't press for more information. Mollie enjoyed chattering away about nonsensical things to him, but she rarely probed him for information to the point of discomfort. He found so many things that he could appreciate about Mollie Hooper's new presence in his life, and he felt himself eagerly anticipating the next few months they would spend together.

* * *

Mollie was awoken by the carriage jerking to a halt. Lord Holmes looked up at her and said, "Good, you're awake. We're at the inn in Leicester."

Mollie nodded sleepily, still not quite ready to speak. She had drifted in and out of napping since she and Lord Holmes had conversed that morning; while she was sure Lord Holmes could tell when she was awake, neither of them had felt much like conversing after the serious note their last conversation ended on. Lord Holmes stepped out of the carriage and offered his arm to Mollie. He told the driver to unpack the same items he had the previous day, and then led Mollie inside.

When they arrived inside the inn, a stout, red-faced man approached Sherlock and Mollie, and enthusiastically greeted Sherlock with a slap on the back.

"Sherlock! How are you, m'boy? Will you be needing lodgings for tonight? If so, I can assure you that Ellie and I will give you the finest room in the inn…no charge to you, of course! And your brother, Mycroft, has had a letter sent here for you."

Mollie watched as Lord Holmes waited (surprisingly) patiently for the older man to finish his stream of chatter. When there was a moment's pause, Lord Holmes calmly said, "Rupert, I am quite well, thank you. I will be needing a single room for tonight. And I would like you to meet my wife, Mollie."

At the mention of her name, Lord Holmes wrapped his arm tightly around Mollie's waist and squeezed her close to him. He smiled down at her in a fashion so convincing, Mollie would have sworn he was madly in love with her if she didn't know better. She looked up at Lord Holmes and smiled back at him, taking his free hand and squeezing it tightly for a moment. As she released his hand, their moment of bliss was interrupted by Rupert the innkeeper loudly exclaiming, "Sherlock! You sly dog! You didn't tell us you'd been lately married!"

"Yes, well, it's a bit of a story. However, I have to admit that my dear wife is a bit tired from our journey. I'm sure that she would love the chance to freshen up. Perhaps we could catch up on the story over some dinner?"

"Of course! I'll call one of the maids to bring up some hot water for Mollie to bathe in. We've just had a large tub installed into the suite where you'll be staying, so she'll have a relaxing bath. I'll get Ellie's maid to help Mollie with her hair and bathing as well."

"Thank you. If you could show us up to our bedroom?"

Rupert nodded, and while he went to the back to retrieve a key for the suite, Sherlock went out to the carriage to tell the driver to come in with the luggage. Rupert led Mollie and Sherlock up to their suite, and opened the door to let them enter. Mollie bit her lip to keep herself from gasping at the luxury of the room they were staying in. There was a huge plush chaise lounge in the center of the room as they walked in. Off to the left was a spacious bedroom with a huge, soft-looking bed with a white comforter on top of it. Off of the bedroom Mollie could see the bathroom with a large tub and wash basin. Sherlock nodded his approval at their quarters; Rupert quietly took his leave, telling them that dinner would be served in two hours before he shut the door behind him.

After Rupert's footsteps had faded down the hallway, Sherlock looked at Mollie and quietly said, "Wear one of your nice dresses down to supper tonight. It will make our marriage appear more convincing."

Mollie nodded, then went over to the wrapped packages and picked out the lovely blue "sitting dress" that she had been fitted in. She went to answer a knock at the door a few moments later- a girl of 15 or 16 greeted Mollie at the door with a bucket of hot water.

"Hello, ma'am. I'm here to help you with your bath."

Mollie nodded and followed the girl to the bathroom, silently in awe of the fact that the girl was no more than a year or so younger than her. The girl made a few more trips up and down the stairs with hot water in a bucket, and finally filled the tub to a decent level. Mollie closed the bathroom door behind her, and undressed herself. Once she had submerged herself in the tub, she called for the maid to come into the bathroom. The maid scurried in with her arms full of soaps and oils. For the next 30 minutes, Mollie relaxed in the tub as the maid scrubbed her down thoroughly from head to toe and cleaned and combed her hair. After her bath was over, Mollie dried herself with a towel the maid gave her, then sat down on a bench near the washbasin. The maid came into the bathroom with the blue dress Mollie had laid out and helped Mollie adjust her undergarments to an appropriate tightness. After helping Mollie dress, she fixed Mollie's hair into a lovely arrangement- half of Mollie's hair was braided into a wreath around her head, and the other half was left down. Mollie thanked the maid, and the maid took her leave. When Mollie emerged from the bathroom, she was surprised to find Lord Holmes fully dressed in his finery. She had never seen him in his "nobleman's" clothing before, and was left in awe of the impressive figure he struck. She found herself at a loss for words, and strangely enough, he seemed to be in a similar predicament. He looked her up and down a few times, before finally saying, "You look quite lovely, Mollie. We should probably go downstairs for dinner now."

* * *

When they arrived in the dining room, Mollie was stunned by how much food was laid out on top of the table. There was a roast, gravy, potatoes, and a number of other platters of food. Mollie had never seen so much food in one place in her whole life. She quickly blinked, reminding herself that she was now a nobleman's wife- things like this should come as no surprise to her. An older woman whom Mollie assumed was the innkeeper's wife was already seated at the table next to the innkeeper. Rupert gestured for Mollie and Sherlock to take the seats across from himself and his wife.

The innkeeper's wife, Ellie, murmured to Sherlock, "Your wife is absolutely lovely, Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled down at Mollie and squeezed her hand. Mollie smiled back at him, this time feeling genuine joy burst forth from her heart at such a flattering compliment. Mollie had always been called "mousy", "quiet", and "bookish". Never had someone called her lovely or beautiful before today.

Lord Holmes gave her a very intent look, then quietly said, "Yes, I believe I have married the loveliest woman in England."

Mollie felt her stomach flutter at this comment; did he really mean it? She smiled again, and felt her cheeks flush a tiny bit. Her romantic reveries were broken by the sound of Rupert's mug of ale slamming onto the table.

He cheerily exclaimed, "Well, it is only fitting that the cleverest man in England would catch the most beautiful bride in England!" Mollie thought to herself that Rupert was deserving of a superlative for being the most jovial man in England.

"So, let's hear it then. I want to know how you won this young lady over." Rupert took a long swig of his ale after his sentence. Mollie saw his quiet wife, Ellie, smile fondly at him from the corner of her eye.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Well, Mollie's father is the apothecary on my estate. I went down to his shop one morning to pick up a garlic tincture for a sore throat I had. When I opened the door, it was not Anselm Hooper there at the front of the shop, but a woman who I swore then and there was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I was so captivated by her beauty, I knew I had to have her as my bride. Then and there, I went to her and asked her to be my wife. She was a bit shocked at first,"- with this admittance he smiled at Mollie, who smiled and nodded her head-"but after a few more visits from me, I managed to win her heart. We're on our honeymoon now- my brother has arranged for a cottage for us to honeymoon at in Oxford."

Rupert looked between them, and grinned. "Damn fine story. But we have to hear the lady's perspective. Mollie, what about Sherlock won you over?"

Mollie panicked for a moment, not sure what to say. She quickly pulled her nerves together and took a deep breath, managing to feign an expression of pensiveness.

"Well, when Sherlock came into the shop, I will admit that I was captivated by his eyes. I thought I had never seen a man with a more handsome set of eyes. However, his mind is what really won me over. I could never have married a fool, and I was amazed at his brilliance."

Ellie and Rupert appeared satisfied with the answer, and smiled at the two of them. Sherlock, meanwhile, could not stop looking at her. As they ate their meal and chattered with jocund ease, Lord Holmes kept looking down at her, a searching expression in his eyes.

* * *

After they had excused themselves from dinner and retired to their room for the evening, they silently went through the same routine of changing for bed. That evening, Mollie was not as nervous about Lord Holmes sleeping with her. However, she felt a queer sense of anticipation, one that made her stomach flutter and heart do flips. When Lord Holmes laid down next to her, she whispered, "Good night, my Lord."

She heard Lord Holmes's quiet intake of breath at this. "Please don't call me Lord Holmes anymore. Call me Sherlock. Lord Holmes is stuffy and makes me feel like I am Mycroft. If we are to live together for the next few months, I won't be able to bear such a stuffy title. And Sherlock sounds so much better."

It was quiet for a few moments, then Mollie said, "Sherlock?"

He hummed in response.

"Did you mean what you said downstairs? About me being lovely?"

"Mollie, you usually are not one to ask silly questions. But I do find you lovely. You are a strange creature, and I'm not sure if I've met one like you before, but you are lovely."

Mollie sucked in a puff of air at that statement. She rolled over to face him, and quietly said, "Why?"

"Why does anyone find anyone beautiful? I don't know. I think you have lovely brown eyes, and your hair is beautiful. You smell like heaven whenever you're near me, and you have a light in your eyes that makes you so keen and intelligent compared to all these ridiculous society women. And I rather like how thin you are- it's so much more attractive than these women who bloat themselves on wine, food, and poisonous face paints to create a larger figure."

As he said these words, he reached out and stroked a lock of hair from Mollie's face. He leaned towards her. "Mollie Hooper, you look quite ethereal in this light." He leaned a little closer, and Mollie unconsciously tilted her face upwards. He tipped his face forward to meet her lips, and gently pressed them to hers for just a second. He pulled away then, without a word. Mollie blinked with shock. That was her first kiss, without fanfare or glory. But despite the lack of fanfare, she would not have traded the hushed touching of lips in a dark bedroom for the world. She felt herself shiver as a draft of cold air slipped into the bedroom. And she smiled to herself as a strong arm pulled her to him, keeping her warm through the night.

* * *

_Just a quick disclaimer, I have NOTHING against curvy women or women of a heavier weight. I am a curvy farm girl myself, and I think that all body types are beautiful. But it just seemed like a very Sherlock thing to find a woman who was different from a societal beauty standard attractive. But please don't take any offense- I promise none was intended. Hugs and kisses- I'll have another chapter posted either this weekend or next week. Get excited! Until next time. :) _


	8. Mine Is Yours

King and Lionheart: Chapter 7

**AN: _SO _sorry for taking so long with this update. I work in a lab, and the amount of research we've been trying to wrap up over the past two weeks has been ridiculous. But I haven't forgotten about y'all! Also, how about that Season 3 teaser that came out today?! Also, notice the change in the story description- Petra Todd requested that I change the description from "prompt" to "mini-story", and I was more than happy to comply, considering that she makes amazing photosets! The title of this chapter is from "Mine Is Yours" by Cold War Kids. Anyways, enjoy this chapter- reviews, favorites, and follows are always appreciated! Hugs and kisses! :) **

* * *

Mollie woke up the next morning feeling significantly colder than she had the night before when she had fallen asleep. She immediately knew that it was because her bedmate had once again vacated the bed long before she woke up. She touched her lips as she sat up in bed, curious if they would feel any different than they had felt before she laid down in bed the previous night. It amazed her that she could have experienced such a huge milestone in her life, but felt no physical alteration. Mollie was still surprised that Sherlock had kissed her the night before. Her heart fluttered as she recalled the exact feel of his lips gently pressing against her own. Mollie's mind was also fluttering, though in a very different way- her brain seemed to play out hundreds of different scenarios for how her relationship with Sherlock would proceed. Curiosity began to nag at her, and she finally rolled out of bed, resolving to go find Sherlock and see how he would acknowledge the new developments in their relationship.

When Mollie walked out into the parlor, she found Sherlock sitting on the lounge, reading in his nightshirt. His thin, muscular calves were exposed, and Mollie couldn't help but quietly admire his shapely legs. When he murmured, "Yes, Mollie?" without ever looking up from the book he was reading, Mollie's eyes snapped up to his face.

"Well, erm, I was just wondering what we would be doing today. When we'll be off and such."

Behind that innocent sentence Mollie was also probing for acknowledgement of the previous night's events. She felt a bit uncomfortable asking outright- but it seemed that Sherlock was either oblivious or willfully stubborn.

"Well, I suspect we'll be off in the next hour or so. I've gotten the driver up here to load up everything except your yellow dress and its accompanying undergarments. You should probably go put them on so that we can head downstairs for breakfast. Does that answer your question?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so. Is there, um, anything else you'd like to say to me?"

Sherlock cocked his head to the side for a second, looking deep in thought, then came back with a quick rejoinder, "No, I don't think so. Why, did I miss something?"

A flash of hurt, anger, and sadness rushed through Mollie's body all at once. So this was how he was going to behave. "No, I think that covers it." Mollie rushed out of the parlor to the bedroom and slammed the door behind her, feeling a few hot tears slide down her face as she slammed the door.

He had never intended to let it go this far. He knew what Mollie was implying as she stood in the parlor, practically a white wisp of cotton in the morning light. However, he also knew that he had made himself vulnerable the night before- too vulnerable. And he had lost control of himself. Kissing her had been nice- he wouldn't go so far as to say pleasurable, because the kiss wasn't given with the intention of pleasure. But it was nice. Mollie had soft lips, and delicate hands that tenderly ran through his hair. However, he knew that now he needed to return to the real world. He could not promise Mollie Hooper anything that she desired or deserved. He didn't consider himself to be paternal material, and knew he wasn't the type to settle down. His friend, Sir John Watson, was undoubtedly all of those things; Sherlock was more of a man to wander the world, constantly asking questions and weaving in and out of trouble. No, despite his growing attraction to Mollie Hooper, he knew it was better to hurt her with the sting of rejection now than to break her heart later with betrayal or abandonment. What he was doing wasn't cruel, it was logical. However, as he saw a tear leak from her eye as she ran to the bedroom, it was exceptionally difficult to tell himself that he was not being cruel. He wished desperately that he had not given into his baser desires, had not exposed his innermost feelings, and had remained a distant gentleman to Mollie. This was uncomfortable now, but he could tell that Mollie was resilient- she would recover soon enough. As for himself, he would gather his wits and regain his self-control very soon. He could already tell he was more on his guard than he had been the previous night. If he waited out the storm, things would resolve themselves.

* * *

Mollie quietly emerged from the bedroom, refusing to meet Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock read a few more lines in his book, before saying, "Let's go get some breakfast so that we can get on the road and finish the journey in good time." Mollie nodded, still refusing to verbally recognize Sherlock's words. She and Sherlock walked to the dining room together, and while Rupert and Ellie noticed the visible tension between the couple, Rupert mistook it for something besides anger.

"Well, I can see that you two had a rather long night last night. Pray tell, did you sleep well?" Rupert finished this with a rather obvious wink and smirk.

Mollie blushed bright red, and quickly spooned porridge into her bowl. Sherlock, meanwhile, gave a grunt, and pointedly avoided the looks of the other three people in the room. It looked as though Rupert was going to make another suggestive comment to the embarrassed couple, when Ellie put her hand on Rupert's arm and said, "Let's eat some breakfast, dear." Rupert smiled at his wife and squeezed her hand, and took a place next to her at the breakfast table. Breakfast afterwards was mainly an exchange of small talk and pleasantries. After Sherlock and Mollie had finished their breakfast, they excused themselves from their company. Mollie thoroughly thanked the innkeeper and his wife for the delicious meals and comforting hospitality; Sherlock, not being one for casual sentiment, nodded his head curtly to Ellie and shook Rupert's hand. He stiffly held out his arm to Mollie, who hesitated for the briefest of moments before linking her arm into his. Sherlock moved towards the carriage at a quick pace, wanting to banish the memories of breakfast's detestable awkwardness from his head as quickly as possible.

* * *

Mollie and Sherlock seemed to be playing a game of who could look like they cared least as they sat in the carriage for the first hour of their journey. Sherlock took a quick glance at Mollie and noted that while her mouth was set in a firm line of stubborn determination, her eyes still betrayed a little of the hurt that he had seen earlier. As he looked upon Mollie's countenance, he felt a queer little pang in his chest, something akin to a knot being tugged tight around his heart. With dismay, he realized that the source of his own discomfort was his guilt over Mollie's clear unhappiness. However, he didn't want to break his resolve, so he chose to solve his problem instead by starting a new line of conversation with her to dissolve the tension.

"We need to discuss our plans for housekeeping and budgeting."

Mollie looked back at him in surprise; it was clear that while she was physically in the carriage, mentally she had been far away until the moment Sherlock spoke to her.

"What sort of demands would you put on me for housekeeping?"

Sherlock internally cringed at the brightness that didn't quite ring true in Mollie's voice. Normally, her enthusiasm was deeply sincere; however, as she spoke now, there was a false excitement in her voice.

"I'm sure that Mrs. Hudson has filled you in on my basic expectations. You can sweep, mop, scrub, and do whatever you like- I will not dictate your housekeeping habits so long as everything looks clean and neat. However, in my private rooms, such as my study and library, I would request that nothing be moved. Even when I am traveling, I like to carry out certain experiments. These experiments are often delicate in nature, and moving them or shifting them in any way could damage the progress being made on them."

Mollie nodded. Mrs. Hudson had already told her to expect this, so nothing Sherlock said really surprised her.

"Furthermore, I will give you a weekly budget that will be more than ample for anything that we may need. I'm going to give you a larger than usual sum this week- I'd like you to use the extra money to buy yourself a warm winter coat. Your thinness may give you an unusual brand of attractiveness, but it certainly does not give you proper insulation in the winter months. I'll require you to buy food for us to eat at market, and for you to prepare meals every night that I am hungry. In addition to all of this, I'll occasionally send you to the local apothecary or alchemist. You'll need to pick up components for my experiments there."

Mollie quietly nodded again. She wasn't quite sure what to say in response other than a simple "yes", and deep down, she wasn't ready to be on speaking terms with Sherlock again.

"Do stop nodding. It makes you look rather dumb, and stupidity is never flattering on anyone."

Mollie's eyes flashed up to Sherlock's face in shock. Had he _really _just said that?

The next thing Mollie did neither Sherlock nor Mollie could have predicted. She pulled open the curtain that prevented cold air from drafting in, leaned her head out the open window, and shouted, "Stop the carriage!" The carriage lurched to a halt at Mollie's command, and before Sherlock could reach out and grab her, Mollie had thrown open the door and taken off running. She heard Sherlock chasing after her and swearing, and knew she probably wouldn't get far in the heavier garments that she was wearing, but she decided to keep running nevertheless. She finally felt two large hands clamp around her waist and jerk her to a sudden stop.

"What in the _devil _do you think you're doing?" he hissed in her ear.

"Trying to get away from you, _my Lord. _You've treated me abominably all through the day today, and I've had quite enough of it."

Sherlock took a deep breath and loosened his grip on her waist slightly. After a rather pregnant pause, Sherlock responded.

"I am sorry for how I have treated you today. My…actions last night were not ones I intended to make. I was trying to prevent any further complication in our relationship by proceeding in the manner in which I have today. Forgive me for my rudeness. However, I would like to point out that we are quite far from any town, and a pretty young woman traveling alone in the solitude of the forest would be a tempting target for a common criminal of any nature."

Mollie relaxed slightly in Sherlock's grip as she considered his words. While she still found Sherlock's reasoning for his behavior quite flawed, she also acknowledged that her current course of action was inherently illogical. It was with a small amount of trepidation and a large amount of sensibility that she agreed to get back into the carriage with Sherlock. Mollie was still quite unhappy with Sherlock despite her return to the carriage, and sought to communicate as much to him non-verbally. Sherlock, meanwhile, felt deeply uncomfortable. He could tell that he had gone too far in his treatment of Mollie earlier in their discussion. While he wanted to make it up to her in some way, he also found his pride limiting him from truly rectifying the situation. Finally, after riding an hour without a word exchanged between them, he quietly murmured, "Would you like to hear about the house we will be living in?"

Mollie shifted her gaze from the window to Sherlock's face. She silently nodded, and Sherlock chose not to comment on her nod this time. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the piece of parchment that Mycroft had written to Sherlock on. Sherlock cleared his throat and began reading. He chose to skip the introductory niceties, and instead cut to the middle of the letter, where Mycroft described the accommodations.

"The cottage you will be living in in Oxford is a comfortable place, despite its modest external appearance. You shall find yourself wanting for nothing inside of it. There is a large bedroom with a bath, and a stream running outside the cottage where you can fetch water. There is a hearth on which you may cook- however, even more convenient is a novel invention known as the clay oven. My understanding is that they are quite popular in India and Italy- this device made its way to England because the cottage's previous owner traveled often. Anthea tells me that the clay oven is good for baking breads and similar items. There is a parlor where you may take company, though I find myself doubting that you would do anything of the sort. Outside of the cottage there is a small terrace with a patch of land that could be useful for gardening. If any of your experiments require fresh plants, this could be useful to you. There is a fireplace in the bedroom to ensure your warmth. I have had a friend in Oxford hide the key under a pot in the front of the cottage- he has been keeping an eye on things there since I alerted him that you would be staying there, so the cottage should be safe and ready for you to reside in."

After he was done reading, Sherlock looked up at Mollie. He could see that she looked more excited than before. He cocked his head to the side and murmured, "You are pleased."

Mollie was indeed quite pleased. As much as she wanted to remain angry at Sherlock, she could not ignore the inherent pleasure that came from the idea of running her own home. Mollie had never envisioned herself having a home of her own- she had always expected that she would marry a man who apprenticed with her father, and would live in the small loft of the shop with her husband. The idea of having a large cottage to manage and take care of was almost too much for Mollie to take in at once. She felt giddy as she realized that she could make this place her home, at least for the time being. She blushed when she realized Sherlock had been gazing at her with a gentle and curious look in his eyes.

"I am happy that this brings you joy. This house may be mine, but I want you to run it as your own home. As long as my experiments remain intact, you may do whatever you want with the house. Just let me know how much money you will need."

Mollie was struck by Sherlock's sudden generosity, and smiled brightly at him for the first time that day. "Thank you, that is a very generous offer, and I promise not to abuse your generosity."

After that conversation, they finished the journey in alternating turns of friendly conversation and companionable silence. Finally, they reached their destination in Oxford. It took all of Mollie's self-control to not throw herself out of the carriage to go explore the cottage. She could already tell that she was going to fall deeply in love with the little house. It was a stone house with a thatch roof, and ivy climbing up the walls. A small chimney poked up from the roof on either side of the house, completing the charming effect that the house had on Mollie. Mollie looked back to Sherlock, seeking his consent to go explore the house. Sherlock nodded to Mollie, gesturing for her to go inside.

Mollie found the described key under a small clay pot in front of the house. She unlocked the front door and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the darkness within the house. Mollie looked next to the door and found matches with which to light the candles. She moved quickly through the front hall, lighting candles so that she could more carefully observe her new home. She went to the windows and pulled back the heavy curtains covering them. She was amazed to find glass windows framed by the stone walls of the cottage; glass windows were usually a luxury preserved for castles and the homes of noblemen. She propped the window open in order to air out the cottage and let in more light. As she moved further back into the cottage, she found the parlor, and lit the candles within that room as well. She chose to leave the exploration of the study to Sherlock, since she wouldn't be using it. Finally, Mollie got to the room that she was most eager to see- the bedroom. Mollie looked around, and gratefully acknowledged that the bed was almost as luxurious as the bed from the inn. She was also happy to find a rather large tub, and was pleased with the convenience of finding a fireplace within the bedroom- it would be much easier to heat water for baths with a fireplace in the bedroom. Mollie chose to avoid wasting candle wax by not lighting the candles in the bedroom. She left the windows in the bedroom closed as well so that the bedroom would keep all the heat inside.

Next on Mollie's list of priorities was finding something to eat for supper that evening. She went into the pantry next to the kitchen, and was delighted to find that the pantry had already been stocked with flour, cured meats, and many other things that would prove useful for preparing meals. She decided to make her mother's flatbread recipe that her father had managed to record before her mother's death, and to serve one of the cured meats in the pantry alongside it. It was a simple meal, but Mollie was too tired to cook anything elaborate that evening. When Mollie had baked bread at home, she had always put a clay pan above a pot of hot coals, and covered the bread until it baked through. She expected the oven in the kitchen would work in much the same way. She started a fire in the fireplace, and collected hot coals off the edge after a few minutes of burning. After putting the coals in the oven, she set to work on the bread.

She became so engrossed in mixing and rolling the bread that she didn't notice Sherlock come up behind her. She jumped a little when he asked, "What exactly are you making?"

Mollie shifted slightly to face him as she continued to knead the bread in the bowl. "I'm making a flatbread that my Mum used to make for my father. I'm going to put some cured meat with it for our meal. Does that suit you?"

Sherlock nodded, and sat down in a chair at the table, silently observing Mollie making the bread. Eventually, he turned to a book that he had brought into the room with him; this made Mollie much more comfortable, as she hadn't quite adjusted to the intensity of his gaze when he looked at her. She slid the bread onto a pan and placed it in the clay oven, keeping a careful eye on it to make sure it wouldn't burn. While the bread baked, she sliced the meat on a plate and set it on the table. When the bread was done, she sliced it and put it on the table. She and Sherlock ate together in a silence shared by two people who don't quite know how to feel about one another. Mollie went to the bedroom after cleaning the dishes from supper and lit candles. She changed into her nightdress and combed her hair, electing to leave it down that night.

Mollie came back out of the bedroom; she found Sherlock still reading in the kitchen. "Sherlock, are you coming to bed?"

He looked up at her, then quietly murmured, "Not now. I'll be in the bedroom later- I won't wake you. I need some time with my thoughts."

Mollie nodded, and grabbed a pan from the pantry before wandering back to the bedroom. She filled the pan with hot coals and tucked it between the bedsheets- despite going further south, she was disappointed to find that the winter weather was still bitterly cold. She slipped into bed and found herself shivering in her thin nightgown. She buried further into the quilt to try to find some warmth. She was unsuccessful in this pursuit, and found herself drifting in and out of sleep until Sherlock came into the bedroom. She could vaguely make out his form as he came in, and was shocked when he began to undress. She could feel herself breathing a little faster when he removed his shirt, and had to remind herself that she was supposed to be sleeping, not ogling Sherlock. Forcibly slowing her breathing became more difficult when he removed his breeches, leaving him naked in the muted moonlight of the bedroom. She couldn't help but admire his well-sculpted physique as he crossed the room to get a dressing gown. She closed her eyes to maintain the illusion of sleep as he moved towards the bed after dressing. She felt his weight on the other end of the mattress, and couldn't help the involuntary shiver that moved through her limbs.

"You're cold," he murmured quietly. Mollie rolled over and nodded at him timidly. He settled himself into the covers and then wrapped an arm around Mollie, pulling her close to him. She found herself becoming much warmer in his secure embrace. However, she still felt insomnia keeping a firm grip on her mind and body. Sherlock spoke again; this time, he said, "You can't sleep. Would hearing a story help?"

Mollie wasn't sure if it would help her or not; however, she was deeply curious as to what kind of story he would tell her. So she nodded, and closed her eyes, enjoying the thrumming of his chest as he spoke in his deep baritone.

"When I first received my fortune from Mycroft, I decided I wanted to travel. I wasn't sure where to travel first, but I wanted to go somewhere far away. Mycroft arranged passage for me to a place known as Asia. I was to travel on a ship, with a fairly large crew. My first few weeks on the ship, I kept to myself in the cabin. However, about a fortnight into our journey, there was a great commotion on the ship. One of the members of the crew had been found murdered on the ship. At first I wanted nothing to do with it. However, when I realized that having a murderer on the ship would not be conducive to my own safety, I decided to apply my intellect to solving the murder. This was how I started solving crimes. I went to the dead man's body and examined it. I could tell that he had been strangled, and that there had been a great tussle in his quarters before his death. It also appeared that something had been torn from his neck. This something was obviously a necklace, judging by the imprint from where it had been ripped from his neck. Upon closer inspection, it appeared that it contained the hair of the dead man's paramour- there were a few loose hairs lying on him that were a different color from his own. As I explored the crime scene further, I could tell that in fact, his paramour was on the ship with us. His sheets had evidence of certain…activities taking place upon them the night before. The evidence showed a relationship between two men. My final clue was a letter in the dead man's pocket from a young lady. It appeared this young lady was his intended; she had sent him a lock of her own hair in the letter, and this hair was different in color from the hair in the locket. Yes, this was a crime of passion. I could already tell what had happened- this man had been with his lover in a tryst, and had confessed to an engagement to a person of the female persuasion. A jealous rage ensued, and led to murder most foul. At this point, I only needed to find the killer…."

As Sherlock continued his story, Mollie drifted off to sleep. However, while Mollie had hoped to find peace in her sleep, this was not to be had. She found herself in a nightmare in which her father was dying with her far away from him. She couldn't get to him in time, and he instead died alone, wishing that he could have seen his Mollie one last time.

Mollie's eyes flew open as her dream met its heartbreaking close. She was gasping for air, and could feel hot tears streaming down her face. She felt something warm and solid beneath her, and realized that she was laying on top of Sherlock's chest. She began to cry more profusely, and couldn't bring herself to move from her current position. As she began to sob, she felt a tentative hand reaching to stroke her shoulder. She held tighter to Sherlock as he began to stroke his fingers through her hair and pull her tighter to his chest. He didn't ask questions; he just quietly comforted her through the night until she fell into a more peaceful sleep. Sherlock held her all through the night, never letting her go, and keeping her frightening dreams at bay.

* * *

**AN: So Mollie is getting a lot of the hot and cold treatment from Sherlock right now. I know that the hot/cold behaviour is absolutely painful to read about, but the slow build will be worth it, I promise! :) Until next time, lovelies!**


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